Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
by tooieleafs
Summary: In Harry Potter's fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, an ancient legend begins to stir back to life...a legend that tells of a powerful foe who impersonated others to destroy his enemies. Harry is pressed to his limits dealing with V
1. Lily and James

Chapter One

Lily and James

James Potter stepped into the sixth year Gryffindor girls' dorm, carefully treading on the proper places, as the floor was very creaky if one stepped on the wrong spot. James, however, knew the girls' dorms like the back of his hand, as he had had at least fifteen years of practice of sneaking into places with creaky wooden floors. His own houses floors were very creaky, and as he got hungry at night often, he had found how to sneak around at a very young age. 

James crept over to the only lit bed out of four; he guessed the girls were having a—what was it Muggles called them? Slumber party? Yes, that was it. A slumber party. His thought was backed up when a bunch of giggles sounded throughout the dorm, causing him to start and jump around. There was a creak behind him from the floor, and he turned to see his best friend, Sirius Black, standing there rubbing his eyes and holding a teddy bear. James fought back a laugh.

"Shhhh," he whispered to Sirius's sleepy form. "Don't wanna be caught." 

"Why didn't you use the cloak?" Sirius asked, walking over to James. He was referring to James's Invisibility Cloak, which had always come in handy when they wanted to play pranks.

"Nah, that's only for pranks," said James.

"Whad'you call this if not a prank?" Sirius asked.

"We're just listening to their conversations," replied James, "now shush. I wanna hear."

They approached the lit four-poster carefully, then stopped a few feet away, listening hard.

"So, what d'you want to do next?" came a girl's giggly voice. James recognized Rita Skeeter, biggest gossip in the school with the exception of Bertha Jorkins, who had already left a year before. James thought it was for the best.

"How 'bout Truth or Dare?" came another somewhat giggly voice. 

"What's that, Marinah?" Rita's overly happy voice asked. 

"One person picks someone, and that person has to pick truth or dare. Hence the name," said a voice in a matter-of-fact tone. Only one person had that voice, James thought: Lily Evans. "If you pick truth, the person can ask you any question that you have to truthfully respond to; if you pick dare, the person can dare you to do anything, and you have to do it."

"So…" said Marinah's voice, "who goes first?"

"How 'bout giving the Purebloods a stand, Mari?" asked a snotty voice. 

"Shaddup, Krissa," snapped Lily Evans's irritated voice—she was Muggle-born. 

"Fine," spat Krissa, "you go first, Evans."

There was a moment of silence, then Lily said, "Okay, Marinah. Truth or dare?" 

Another moment of silence.

"Dare," said Marinah eagerly. 

"I dare you to…to…run kiss Sirius Black!" 

Sirius immediately reddened. He was about to turn and run when James grabbed his arm and whispered something into his ear, causing a large smile to spread across his face. He held up three fingers, then dropped one, then the last. As the curtains of the four-poster were about to open, James put on a deep, booming voice.

"Lily Evans!" he said stoutly. "You are doing terrible wrong! This is the…the voice of God speaking!"

There were several gasps from within the four-poster. Lily did not, it appeared, seem scared, as she spoke normally when she said, "Fine, if you're God, what color's my hair, and, more importantly, how many hairs are on my head?"

"Your hair's red," said James, "and, let me check my papers here…"

"One million, three hundred fifty-five thousand, seven hundred eighty-nine," said Sirius in a slightly less booming voice. 

"Who was that?" Marinah's voice asked. James could see heads looking curiously at the roof. He stifled a laugh.

"Jesus," he responded. "He's in charge of hair-counting among other things."

"What else do you know about me, then?" Lily's somewhat terrified voice asked. 

"You're sixteen, your birthday was three days ago, you're going to be Head Girl next year, and you're wearing pink underwear," said James proudly. 

"Yeah," Sirius piped in, "and Marinah's wearing blue underwear."

By now, the girls were looking quite terrified, and Lily's face was hiding a bit of anger.

"So, if you can see underwear, what color are James Potter's?" she asked, folding her arms. 

James peered down at his boxers.

"White with little broomsticks," he said, squinting. He managed to barely catch his glasses as they fell off his face before they hit the floor.

The four-poster filled with giggles. 

"What is wrong with that?" James asked, careful to keep the same voice.

No answer.

"Stop laughing!" Sirius said loudly. 

The laughter died instantaneously.

"That's better," said James. "Any other questions you'd like to ask?"

"Who am I gonna marry? Who are all of us gonna marry?" Lily's voice asked. 

"Lily—um…James Potter," said Sirius, only to be whacked in the head by James a moment later. "Marinah—"

"Sirius Black," boomed James. Sirius whacked him in the head. "Rita…you're gonna be a bachelor."

"And Krissa, you'll marry…um…Pettigrew. Peter Pettigrew," said Sirius, smiling. At this point, neither could go any further, as they were rolling on the floor laughing as they watched the girls reactions—all of them seemed terrified. 

The curtains of the four-poster flew open, and there stood a red haired girl with fire in her emerald green eyes.

"JAMES POTTER!" she shrieked. She lunged at him and began beating on him playfully. "FOR HEAD BOY, YOU'RE NOT THAT GOOD AT FOLLOWING THE RULES!"

After a moment, however, James had her pinned to the floor and was tickling her, causing her to laugh uncontrollably. After a moment the laughter died and Sirius saw they were kissing passionately. A disgusted look fell upon his boyish face before he was slapped by a girl with black hair and blue eyes.

"Whoa, there, Krissa, take it easy," he said, rubbing his cheek.

"Jerk!" snapped Krissa. "How could you do that, Black?!"

"Easy, just put on a deep, booming voice—"

He was interrupted as she slapped him again. 

Lily and James finally parted, and the rest of the girls slapped James and Sirius, who were now running out the door, pillows flying after them. 

They ran all the way to the seventh year Gryffindor boys' dorm, which was where two other boys were waiting, one with sandy brown hair, the other with blond hair and watery blue eyes. 

"What were you guys doing?" the brown-haired one asked, rising from his bed. "And why didn't you tell us?"

"We were torturing the girls," said Sirius evilly, "so we didn't figure you'd like it, Moony."

_ Moony…Evans…James…remember…_

"Oh…" said Moony. "Well, that's fine then. I'm going to bed now."

_Marinah…Krissa…Rita… _

"You must like younger girls, Prongs," said Moony as he climbed into bed. 

"How d'you figure?"

"Lily's a year younger than us…"

James blushed immediately.

_Year younger…wake up…remember…wake up…Prongs…Padfoot…year younger…_

"Night guys," said James, climbing into bed. "See you in the morning!"

"Don't forget tomorrow night, either," came Moony's voice from across the room. "Full moon."

"Got you, Moony," said Sirius. "We'll explore Hogsmeade again!"

"Ah, but I liked the Forbidden Forest!" whined the watery-eyed boy from his bed.

"Deal with it, Wormtail," said Sirius harshly.

"Don't be so rough on Wormy," said James with a laugh. "He can't help the way he is, isn't that right Wormtail?"

"Yeah," came Wormtail's sulky voice.

"Fine, fine, sorry Wormy," said Sirius. "G'night, guys."

"Night Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail," said James.   
_Padfoot…Moony…Wormtail… _

"And don't forget the Christmas ball, either," said Moony, "I've already got a date. Janet Maccie said she'd go with me."

_Janet Maccie…Christmas Ball…_

"Lily's goin' with James, of course," said Sirius, "and Marinah's going with me."

"See? Taste for younger women," said Moony. 

_Younger…women…_

"Just don't do anything I wouldn't, Jamie," said Sirius. "Don't want you havin' kids at seventeen."

"SIRIUS!" James shouted. 

"Just tellin' you, Jamie," said Sirius, smiling evilly.

"Good _night_, Sirius," said James through gritted teeth. 

"Night, Jamie-poo!" 

Harry Potter's dream ended suddenly, and he woke with a start to find a solitary tear rolling down his cheek.


	2. The Dream

  
Chapter Two  
  
The Dream   
  
  
Harry wiped the tear slowly out of his eyes as he sat up and reached for his glasses. His mum and dad...they had seemed so happy...his dad must've been a prankster to say the least, after seeing James Potter sneak into the girls' dorm...so his mum was a year younger than his dad? He wondered if that was true....   
  
He shoved his glasses on, and everything became suddenly clearer, causing his room to come into focus sharply. The dream had been so real.... Why would he be dreaming all of a sudden about his parents? Didn't he usually dream of Lord Voldemort's plans? That had definately had nothing to do with Voldemort or Wormtail.... Well, at least not Voldemort.... Wormtail had been in there, hadn't he? And he had been talking to the people he betrayed a few years later...  
  
"Mum," he whispered softly, feeling another tear creep down his cheek, "Dad..."   
  
He knew something was happening in the wizarding world, because when he dreamed usually something was going on. Usually it was bad. Probably worse since he'd dreamed about his dead parents....  
  
He smoothed his black hair down thoughtfully, clutching his forehead out of impulse. When he dreamt his scar would hurt generally. It hadn't been the scar that had woken him this time, it had been when James had fallen asleep...maybe Wormtail had tried to murder him that night and failed? That would be a good reason to have that dream...  
  
Another thought hit him. Lily...Evans? Was that his mum's name before Potter? What were the other girls' names? Marinah? Krissa, and...Rita? Skeeter? The reporter? Had she really been in his mum's year at Hogwarts? And what about the Christmas Ball Moony had mentioned? Moony was Remus Lupin, James's friend during his schooldays. Why did they discontinue the balls? There hadn't been a ball before the Yule Ball, had there?   
  
Harry laid back down in his bed with a dull thud. He heard his cousin, Dudley Dursley, give a loud snort from the room across the hall. He closed his eyes tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to come. Should he tell Sirius? Sirius Black was his godfather, and had been James's best friend throughout Hogwarts. Sirius would want to know anything unusual going on...but dreaming of your parents when they're dead wasn't unusual, was it? Didn't orphans dream of what their parents were like? Wasn't this the same?  
  
James and Lily Potter had been murdered by Lord Voldemort fourteen years ago, when Harry had been one year old. James had fought Voldemort off for a while, yelling for his wife to take Harry and run, then Voldemort had finally used the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, to put James Potter away. Lily had been told to stand aside so Voldemort could murder Harry, but she refused and was therefore murdered so Harry could be. But Voldemort had been unable to kill the infant; the love his mum left wouldn't allow Voldemort's curse to touch Harry, and instead it rebounded on Voldemort, nearly killing him.  
  
Harry had been brought to live with the Dursleys, his horrible aunt, uncle, and cousin. Aunt Petunia was a small woman with a long neck and blond hair; Uncle Vernon was a short, plump man with a black mustache and nothing of a neck; and Dudley was the split image of his father: (to Harry) a pig with a wig.  
  
Harry hated the Dursleys because they were so normal; the Dursleys hated Harry because he was so abnormal. It appeared they wanted nothing more than to see Harry dead, or in as much suffering as possible. They wanted nothing to do with the wizarding kind such as Harry, and forbaid Harry to say the name of his school in their house.   
  
If they wanted to see me sufer, Harry thought, they should've been at the graveyard a few months ago. Harry's thoughts drifted once more to the Triwizard Tournament, the used-to-be annual competition between the three major wizarding schools of Britain: Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and Hogwarts. There were three champions usually, but Harry had been chosen as the fourth champion, and had to compete in the tournament, even though he was underaged by new regulations. He'd made it through all the tasks in one piece, then the maze...he had taken the cup at the same time as Cedric Diggory, the other Hogwarts champion, and they had been warped to the graveyard.... Then Wormtail had came, and Voldemort had been reborn, Cedric had been killed, and Harry had nearly been killed. But his and Voldemort's wands wouldn't allow their owners to duel with each other, as their core was from the same phoenix: Fawkes, Albus Dumbledore's (headmaster of Hogwarts) pet.  
  
He had been tortured in that graveyard, both physically and mentally. That had been the first time he'd seen his parents: in a shadowy form that came from Voldemort's wand. But the dream had been much clearer and much...sadder, somehow.... He had seen his mum, dad, and their friends at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and they had been so...happy...but he could not share that feeling of happiness...he wished he could be that happy, but he knew it was impossible. The Ministry of Magic of Britain was in turmoil with Voldemort's uprising, Albus Dumbledore was taking action into his own hands, and Harry was stuck with the good-for-nothing Muggles that were his only living relations.  
  
He would give anything to be with Sirius Black, as Sirius was his godfather, but Sirius was convicted of betraying Lily and James and killing twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew with one curse. Harry, however, knew that Sirius was actually innocent, that it had been Pettigrew who had killed those Muggles and faked his own death, leaving only his finger. In his third year at Hogwarts, Harry had learned all of this, and he had wanted to be with Sirius ever since. Harry guessed Sirius was now deeply involved with Voldemort now, however; he was getting fewer and fewer letters from his godfather this summer.   
  
Harry was stirred from his musings as he heard a tap on the window. His snowy owl Hedwig was flying there, looking ruffled and angry as the rain beat down on her. Harry jumped carefully out of bed, as to not wake the Dursleys, and let her in along with a lot of rain.   
  
"Why're you back, Hedwig?" he whispered as he stroked her back. She stared up at him with amber eyes, then held out her leg. A small piece of parchment was tied to it. "Who's this from? Ron?" Hedwig nodded her head once. Harry untied the letter and was about to read it when -  
  
"BOY! Breakfast!" shouted Aunt Petunia shrilly. He looked outside. The sun wasn't out...the clouds were probably hiding it...  
  
He pulled some jeans and a shirt on, then hurried downstairs to find everyone else already sitting at the table. Dudley was whining about his diet as Aunt Petunia placed a grapefruit on his plate.   
  
"But Mum," said Dudley, pouding his fists on the table, "I've lost weight, really!"   
  
But if Dudley had lost any weight, he must've weighed at least a thousand pounds before, as he still looked as fat, if not more fat, than Harry remembered last year. Harry sat down quietly across from Uncle Vernon, who's nose was in the morning newspaper.   
  
"Good morning," said Harry cautiously; he didn't feel like using his Sirius routine this early in the morning.  
  
"What's good about it?" grunted Uncle Vernon.  
  
Hmm, thought Harry, improvement - at least he's talking to me...  
  
"Sleep well?" Harry asked, still trying to sound cheerful.  
  
"What do you want, boy?" Uncle Vernon snarled. "Permission to go away for the rest of the summer, I suppose?"  
  
"Erm...not yet, anyhow," said Harry as Aunt Petunia placed a minute grapefruit in front of him. "Just thought I'd be nice for a change."  
  
"Like I said, boy: What d'you want from us?"  
  
"Nothing," said Harry, taking a bite of his grapefruit. "If I even open my mouth anymore..."  
  
"Go to your room," snarled Aunt Petunia. "And give the rest of that to Duddie-kins!"   
  
Harry thought of arguing, then decided against it. He instead took what was left of his grapefruit, placed it on Dudley's plate, and left for his room, half grateful for having an excuse to leave them once more. He did, after all, have a letter to read. Maybe Dumbledore told Mrs. Weasley, his best friend Ron Weasley's mum, that Harry could finally leave the Dursleys until next year. The Weasleys had always kept Harry towards the end of the summer, and even taken him to the Quidditch World Cup last year. The Weasleys were like Harry's real family, the one he'd never had.  
  
He immediately picked up his letter upon reaching his room and unfolded it quickly. It appeared Hedwig was right; it was from Ron.   
  
  
Harry,  
Mum said Dumbledore said it was okay if you came with us to, get this, the Swiss Alps with Dad! The Ministry's sending Dad over there because some idiotic wizard enchanted several Muggle items to fly and apparently can't get them back down. Muggles are going crazy over there because the Ministry of Magic of Switzerland is a little lax with their rules. And all the Ministry officials are quitting because of You-Know-Who's return.   
  
Everyone's a tad crazier this year Harry. Fudge won't admit to You-Know-Who's return, and Dumbledore's been doing a lot of things our favorite (yeah right) Minister doesn't approve of. He's even threatened to fire Dumbledore. I don't think he will because Dumbledore's the only wizard You-Know-Who is afraid of, and Hogwarts would be dangerous then.  
  
Fred, George, Ginny, and Hermione are coming with us, too. We'll pick you up by car tomorrow, regardless of whether or not the Muggles concent on it. We're not even going to bother with formalities this time. See you tomorrow, Harry.  
  
Ron  
  
  
Harry laid the letter back down after re-reading it a few times, all the news buzzing through his head. So Cornelius Fudge wouldn't admit Voldemort was back, Harry thought. Fudge was the British Minister of Magic, and he loved his job more than anything. Harry felt a tinge of anger as he scrolled a letter to Ron. How could someone be so daft as to not believe the truth.  
  
He tied his short letter to Ron (Sounds good, I'll tell the Muggles anyway. See you then, Harry) to Hedwig's leg and watched as she fluttered away into the stormy sky. He watched her until she disappeared completely from view.   
  
Then a happy thought hit him as he remembered the letter: He was going to the Swiss Alps! Snow in summer! At least, there probably was snow there. It was a lot colder on top of a mountain than on Privet Drive....  
  
And at least there wouldn't be Voldemort there...at least Harry could think happy things for a while, and forget the dream for now. 


	3. Phoenix Song Charms

  
Chapter Three  
  
  
Phoenix Song Charms  
  
  
"Uncle Vernon!" shouted Harry as he bounded back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Uncle Vernon, it appeared, had moved to the living room, however; Harry turned and ran back into the living room.  
  
"What do you want now, boy?" barked Uncle Vernon, glancing up from his newspaper to watch Harry, who was now entering the room very cautiously.   
  
"Ron's invited me to his house," said Harry quickly. No need telling Uncle Vernon about the Alps...that would just make him more determined to keep Harry from going. "They'll keep me till school starts."  
  
Uncle Vernon's eyes narrowed as he glared at Harry. Harry stared back just as defiantly, watching as Uncle Vernon thought. Harry thought he could see two weights, one on each side of Uncle Vernon's head, one saying "Get him out of my hair" the other "Make him mad." It appeared "Make him mad" was winning at the moment; an ugly sneer was appearing across Uncle Vernon's face, and Harry quickly countered.  
  
"Fine," he said shortly, "I'll just tell Sirius you wouldn't..."  
  
This had been enough it appeared, as Uncle Vernon raised his hand and grunted, "You can go."   
  
"Thanks," said Harry, turning to leave the room.   
  
"Wait," said Uncle Vernon suddenly. Harry stopped and turned back around and re-entered the room. "Where does this - er - godfather of yours live exactly?"  
  
Harry stared at Uncle Vernon blankly. He didn't know where Sirius was at the moment...he could be anywhere...especially with Voldemort being back.... A lightbulb flicked on in Harry's head as an idea popped up.  
  
"Well, there's an evil wizard," he started silkily, "that just rose again, so Sirius could be anywhere, trying to help my headmaster."  
  
Uncle Vernon's face reddened with anger.   
  
"I'll just go back to my room..." said Harry, satisfied, "lots of homework to finish before tomorrow..."  
  
"That when they're picking you up? How?"   
  
Harry hid a smile, remembering when the Weasleys had attempted to pick him up by Floo Powder - through the fireplace. It hadn't gone the exact way they'd planned, as the Dursleys had a boarded up electric fireplace. And to top all of that, Fred and George, Ron's twin brothers, had 'accidentally' given Dudley an invention of theirs, a Ton-Tongue Toffee, which had enlarged Harry's cousin's tongue. Mr. Weasley had had to use magic to repair it, which terrified Dudley and the Dursleys even more. It had not been pleasant, to say the least.  
  
"They're coming by car," said Harry quickly, "tomorrow."  
  
Uncle Vernon grunted, which Harry took as a yes, and so he left the room and headed back for his room to take a long nap.... Maybe then he'd work on his homework...when the Dursleys were sleeping...  
  
  
At nine o'clock that night Harry woke up and prepared for a long night of studying...and finishing his Potions and Charms homework. Charms he could handle...Potions were another story. Professor Severus Snape, the Potions teacher, had loaded Harry with homework over the break, probably because he hated Harry more than any other Gryffindor - Snape was head of the Slytherin house, and Gryffindors and Slytherins were never the best of friends.   
  
Snape's hatred for Harry was also because Snape and Harry's dad had been enemies throughout Hogwarts; also, Snape thought Harry was too proud of himself (which he wasn't, and in fact hated the attention); the list continued on and on.   
  
"Let's see," Harry whispered to himself, flicking his lamp on, "what shall I do first? Charms or Potions...Charms."  
  
He took out his Charms book and flipped to the page he had marked. It was labled in big black letters: Song Charms. Song Charms? Harry wondered. He scratched his head. This wasn't the place he remembered bookmarking.... He began to read down the page.   
  
  
There are two kinds of Song Charms: Phoenix Song Charms and Murderous Song Charms. Murderous Song Charms are not illegal, but improper use of these charms could lead to serious injury, and therefore they are not used often. To invoke a Song Charm, one must point one's wand at one's throat, and whisper, "Songerious Indiudi," and then chant the incantation repeatedly. If worked properly, anything in the direction of one's wand will be instantly deafened; later levels can kill.   
  
Phoenix Song Charms are used by phoenixes to communicate with humans through song. Only a skilled Phoenix Song Charms reader can interpret these songs. Phoenixes are the world's greatest Divinators, and every five hundred years (not on rebirth), a phoenix will make predictions for the next five hundred years; only once have these predictions failed over thousands of years: In 1009, a phoenix named Speckles predicted the end of the world, and failed.  
  
  
Phoenixes were the world's greatest Divinators? thought Harry, squinting to read the words. And there were legal charms that could kill someone? Legally? But most people didn't use them any more...  
  
  
The last Murderous Song Charm used was in 1645, by Nicolas Flamel, Alchemist and only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone, when he was attacked by a dark wizard, Karpaci Kalahalaa. Flamel was able to murder Kalahalaa and all of his henchmen with one hit by his Song Charm; he was very advanced in such charms.  
  
  
Flamel? Nicolas Flamel? thought Harry, staring wide-eyed at the page. Karpaci Kalahalaa? He'd never heard of that name...he'd ask Dumbledore about it. Yes, that was it. Ask Dumbledore. If there had been a dark wizard, even that long ago, surely Dumbledore would know.... He knew everything else that went on in the wizarding and Muggle worlds....  
  
Harry snapped the book closed, resolving to do his homework at Ron's and to have a good night's rest.... Hopefully a dreamless good night's rest, at that.   
  
  
James Potter raced down the Quidditch pitch with the Quaffle in his hands, dodging and darted back and forth, in and out of Beaters and Bludgers, between two Slytherin Chasers, towards the goal, past the Keeper, towards the hoop and -  
  
"GRYFFINDOR SCORES!" yelled Kenneth Jordan happily, quailing a moment later under Professor McGonagall's glare. "Sorry Professor...bit too happy, I s'ppose...how 'bout, Gryffindor scores! James Potter, dashingly hansome fourth year Chaser of the Gryffindor team, slips the Quaffle by Jamie Flint, the Keeper for Slytherin. Potter and Sirius Black, Gryffindor Beater, celebrate for a moment before they're back in action.  
  
"Flint retrieves the Quaffle and tosses it out to Lucius Malfoy, who dishes it to Snape, and Snape tries to get through Cynthia McKinnon! Oooh, that was a mistake, wasn't it? He gets slammed to the ground by the vicious Gryffindor Seeker, McKinnon! And a penalty to Slytherin for that earthshaking hit! Penalty taken by Antonin Dolohov, scores easily, making it ten all. The Quaffle is picked up by Lily Evans. Quite a good-looker, Miss Evans is, if I do say so myself..."  
  
"Jordan!" said McGonagall sharply.  
  
"Sorry, Professor, got a little too serious again, right? I'll try harder," said Kenneth. "Now, Evans passes to Potter, Potter sweeps down towards Flint, he's going to score! Oh, but a pass to Evans gives her an empty hoop to shoot into! Flint wasn't expecting that one, was he? Twenty ten, Gryffindor lead.   
  
"Black beats a Bludger at Flint, oooh, hits him in the jaw, but he stays on the broom. Quaffle taken to - wait a minute! McKinnon goes into a massive dive! The play stops suddenly as the Gryffindor team watches anxiously, while the Slytherin Seeker, Pablo Pliorria, flies to catch up with McKinnon! But McKinnon's dive has already ended, and she rises once more with the Snitch clutched in her left hand! GRYFFINDOR BEATS SLYTHERIN FOR THE QUIDDITCH HOUSE CUP! WHAT A GAME!"  
  
James Potter flew straight down to the field below the pitch and began hopping happily around, chanting, "We won the cu-up, we won the cu-up!" Remus Lupin was hugging Cynthia McKinnon, congradulating her.  
  
"Great job, captain, my captain!" shouted Sirius Black over the noise as the crowd ran down from the stands. He hugged Cynthia tightly. "And to think, they said a fourth year captain'd never get anything done!"  
  
"They were wrong, Padfoot!" James declared.   
  
"Apparently so!" shouted Remus.   
  
Madam Hooch entered the arena with the Quidditch Cup in tow. Cynthia stepped forward and took it in her hands, holding it high above her head.  
  
"WE WON!" she shouted. Cheers flew from the Gryffindors; the Slytherins had left the arena disgustedly. They passed the Quidditch Cup around until all the players of Gryffindor had held it.   
  
"Let's go celebrate!" shouted Sirius. "I'll get some food!"   
  
The Gryffindors chanted yeah! then headed for their common rooms, while James, Sirius, Remus, Cynthia, and Lily lagged behind.  
  
"I can't believe we've already won the Cup!" said Cynthia happily. "We've still got three more years to win, and with you guys on the team, there's no way we can lose!"  
  
"Yep!" Remus agreed. "Three more blissful years! By the way, have any of you heard the latest news with Voldemort?"   
  
Cynthia and Sirius winced at Voldemort's name, but it went unnoticed by James and Lily.  
  
"No," said Lily. "Who died now?"  
  
"The Johnstons, a Muggle family in Little Hangleton," said Remus as they headed for the kitchen. "The only survivor was Dot Johnston, a seventy year-old lady." He paused for a moment. "Kind of odd, isn't it?"  
  
"What, Remus?" Cynthia asked curiously, seeing a bit of fear mirrored in his eyes.  
  
"An old lady survives, but three younger men and an old man are murdered," said Remus. He paused again as Sirius tickled the pair in the fruit painting to the kitchen and snuck in. "And the Chronicals, the town paper, said that Dot was indeed in the house...leaves one's mind to wonder, doesn't it?"  
  
Sirius returned a moment later with food stuffed in his pockets.   
  
"Here, take some of this," he said, shoving some food into James's hands. James stuffed it into his pockets and prepared to head back to Gryffindor tower...and then Harry's dream faded slowly away, but Harry didn't wake.   
  
***  
  
Harry yawned widely. He snapped his eyes open and glanced about his room. Everything was the same as it had always been. He glanced at his watch. One thirty A.M.   
  
Harry sighed, collapsing back down to the confines of his bed and closing his eyes tightly. Why do I have to keep WAKING UP in the middle of the night? It's not fair. Really, I mean, out of the millions of wizarding families, why did Voldemort take to chasing down mine? What's wrong with Potters? We're good people, aren't we?   
  
That's exactly why he's after you, snapped a nagging voice in the back of his head.  
  
"Shut the hell up," he said aloud. 


	4. Getting to the Alps...Wizard Style

  
Chapter Four  
  
  
Getting to the Alps...Wizard Style  
  
  
  
Harry woke the next morning, not remembering his dream in the slightest, and untroubled by all his previous fears and anxieties. It was soon off to the mountains for him with Ron, and this Friday morning was brighter than usual as the sun beamed through his minute window.   
He didn't even wait for Aunt Petunia to scream breakfast; he was already headed down the stairs when she met him halfway with a funny glare.  
"What?" he asked.  
"Put some decent clothes on," she snapped.  
Harry looked at himself. He was still dressed in his Hogwarts robes, which he'd started wearing as pajamas - Dudley's just didn't work anymore, Harry was just too skinny.   
"Sorry," he said, running back up the steps quickly before Uncle Vernon could catch him. He was about to open the door to his room when -  
"BOY!"   
Uh-oh. He spun around to see Uncle Vernon's stalky frame standing there, his mustache twitching and his face beat red with anger.  
"Yes sir?" Harry asked, trying to sound nonchalant.  
"WHAT IN HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH THOSE THINGS ON IN MY HOUSE?!" boomed Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry as if he were carrying a gun.  
"I sleep in them," said Harry, keeping himself calm - the last thing he needed was to be yelled at by Cornelius Fudge for blowing up his uncle.   
"WE GIVE YOU DUDLEY'S OLD CLOTHES! YOU SHOULD BE THANKFUL FOR THAT! WE DIDN'T ASK FOR YOU!" bellowed Uncle Vernon.  
"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for YOU either, so I'd watch my step if I were you," snapped Harry, about to enter his room.  
"IN YOUR ROOM! I'LL LOCK YOU UP FOR YEARS!"   
"I WAS TRYING TO GET INTO MY ROOM!" shouted Harry, feeling his temper rise. "BUT YOU STOPPED ME!"  
Suddenly Uncle Vernon slammed back against the hallway wall, clutching his throat. Oh dear, thought Harry, I've lost my cool again.   
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten," murmured Harry softly as he calmed down. Slowly, Uncle Vernon rose to his feet, still clutching his throat. He gave Harry a weak (and false) smile as he walked towards the kitchen.  
"Don't see the harm," he muttered, "in you wearing your clothes...but you've got to give Dudley his back!"  
Harry cringed in fear as he slowly walked down the stairs...the Ministry wouldn't be happy with him.... Nearly murdering a relative after actually blowing up Dudley's aunt Marge two years ago was not a good thing...no, the Ministry would not be happy at all. But that had been a nice Choking Charm he'd unwillingly cast on Uncle Vernon...  
  
Harry had his things packed; Hedwig was back in her cage, having arrived with no reply from Ron; Harry had cleaned out every crook and crevice of his room, finding multiple items such as letters from Ron and Hermione Granger, Ron's and Harry's best friend, as well as letters from Sirius, birthday cake from Sirius, Ron, Hermione, and Rebeaus Hagrid, Hogwarts gatekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor; and his trunk was lying at the foot of the stairs, his cauldron, Firebold (his broomstick), and books packed tightly in it, while his wand was in his pocket.  
Harry sat at the bottom of the steps, waiting patiently for the Weasleys to arrive. He knew at least Ron and Mr. Weasley would come to get him, and maybe Fred and George. The Ministry hadn't sent Harry a letter about his nearly choking Uncle Vernon to death, so Harry figured they were majorly backed up.   
"Boy," barked Uncle Vernon sharply as he walked by, "what're you doing in decent clothes for a change?"  
"What's so suspicious about my wearing Mu - er - normal clothes?" Harry asked, biting his tongue for nearly saying "Muggle."  
"I told you you could wear what you want."  
"I know. But I can't very well go out into the Mu - er - normal world wearing robes, now can I?"  
Uncle Vernon grunted and walked on by. Harry sat for a moment more, then fell fast asleep, eventually falling down the stairs in his unconscious state.  
  
"HARRY!"  
"I'm coming, I'm coming," muttered Harry, rubbing his eyes groggily. He stood up and brushed the dust off of him, then walked over towards the door. He opened it to find a tall, very tall, boy standing there with flaming red hair. Two other shorter boys with the same hair were sitting in the car, arguing over who got to drive home.  
"Harry, good to see you, mate, good to see you," said Ron Weasley, towering above Harry.   
"You're sounding more and more like Fred and George every day, mate," said Harry, smiling. "How's your summer been?"  
"I'll tell you all about it once we get to the Burrow," said Ron, "but first we've got to make it home in one piece. Fred and George got their Muggle driver's liscense...it's been a bit hectic to say the least...they love to drive, though.... Gives Mum heart attacks every time they leave..."  
Harry laughed.  
"C'mon, then, let's go," he said, grabbing his things and calling, "I'm leaving now! Don't forget to pick me up at the end of the school year!"  
There was a loud grunt from inside, so Harry ran down to the blue car Ron, Fred, and George had came in. He piled in after Ron in the back seat, listening to the twins' arguement.  
"You got to drive the way here, George!" whined the boy who was presumably Fred, who was sitting in the passenger's seat.  
"You drive all the time!" said George. "And your name always comes first, too! It's always 'Fred and George,' not 'George and Fred.'"  
"Oh, c'mon, George! Just this once! I wanna show Harry I can drive! Hey, mate," said Fred to Harry.   
"G'day, Fred, George," said Harry.   
"No! I want to drive!" George declared, starting the car.  
"I've got an idea!" said Ron suddenly. "Flip a coin! Here's a Sickle...call it in the air..." He took a silver coin in his hand an flipped it up into the air, while Fred said, "Moons!" and George said, "Suns!"  
Ron caught it and laid it on his hand.   
"Moons," said Ron, "Fred wins."  
George didn't look at all happy about it, but said a happy hello to Harry as he climbed into the passenger seat. Fred took the wheel and a second later they were whipping down the street.  
"Hold on tight, Harry, by the way," warned Ron, strapping his seatbelt on extra tight.   
Fred was a pretty good driver, Harry discovered, at least as far as he could tell. Half the time he was in the floorboards, scrambling to get back into his seat while Fred turned the other direction, slamming Harry into the door. By the time they arrived at the Burrow, Ron and Harry had knocked heads about fifty times, and the window on Harry's side had shattered five times ("Reparo, Reparo, Reparo!") from being hit by Harry's very sore head; Ron's had busted twice. George looked slightly seasick, and Fred was jumping up and down happily.   
Fred got out of the car and helped Harry out after they'd pulled into the driveway.  
"Welcome home, Harry," he said in a mock-snuity tone.   
Harry laughed as he dragged his trunk (Ron took Hedwig) and headed for the house. The sun was still shining very brightly in the sky, giving Harry a good feeling. Fred and George burst into the door of the kitchen, followed closely by Harry and Ron. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting at the kitchen table, chatting about some "Ministry blunder."  
"Hello, Harry!" said Mr. Weasley brightly. "How are you? The Dursleys been treating you all right, I hope?"  
"Er - yeah," said Harry.   
"Heard you strangled Vernon," said Mr. Weasley, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "The Ministry's a little preoccupied, so I promised to lecture you about 'not destroying our relatives, no matter how nasty they may be.'"  
Harry grinned rather guiltily as Mrs. Weasley englufed him in a hug.  
"Good to see you again, Harry!" she said happily. "I'm so glad Dumbledore said you could go with us. You'll be staying in the Alps for two weeks, then come back just before school starts. I'm staying here, so I'll pick up your school things."  
Harry nodded.   
"C'mon, let's go to my room so you can settle yourself in," said Ron, turning to go upstairs. Harry followed closely behind, hearing Mr. Weasley call after them, "We're leaving tomorrow morning, so get a good night's rest, boys!"  
"What time is it?" Harry asked as they neared Ron's room on the top floor. "I kind of fell asleep waiting for you this morning."  
"Eight o'clock," said a new voice from behind them. Harry spun around to see their bushy haired friend Hermione Granger standing there, squinting at her watch. She ran up to Harry and hugged him. "I hope you're fine, Harry."  
Harry, quite embarrassed at the attention, said, "'Course I'm fine. I'm the 'great' Harry Potter."  
"Don't kid yourself," said Hermione briskly. "And there's already been a death. Last night, Dot Johnston, a Muggle, was murdered presumably by You-Know-Who."  
"Johnston...where have I heard that name before?" Harry muttered as they continued to Ron's room.  
"Dunno," said Ron, shrugging, "newspapers? The Daily Prophet said she was quite ancient." Hermione glared sharply at Ron's choice of wording. "What?! She was, what, ninety? The Ministry chose not to comment. I'd guess Fudge has ordered everyone to an oath of silence."  
"I'm sure of it Ron," said Hermione sarcastically as she opened the door to Ron's room. "How can he tell the Ministry officials to lie? They have a right to their freedom of speech."  
"Hermi, you've been reading American History too long," Ron teased. "Freedom of speech is America's little vendetta, not Britain's."  
Harry took note of the use of the name, "Hermi" instead of her full name. He was going to start making mental notes on every little arguement, so he'd have proof of Ron's and Hermione's behavior towards each other.  
"We have just as much right to tell the truth as any American!" snapped Hermione.   
"Guys, could we please not fight?" said Harry, stroking Pigwidgeon (Ron's tiny gray owl) on the back. "You get on my nerves a bit."   
"I reckon we do fight a bit often," said Ron thoughtfully.  
"Well," Hermione exploded, "if you'd think before you speak, maybe we wouldn't argue so much!"   
Harry had expected her to slam the door and leave the room at this point, but she did nothing of the kind.  
"Did you every concent to realize that maybe YOU start some of our fights?" snarled Ron.  
"No, I didn't!" Hermione shouted.  
"Keep your voices down," Harry hissed. After realizing they weren't going to pay attention to his presence, he made the best of it: He took out his wand and whispered, "Recordo," pointing at Ron and Hermione, then listened to the rest of their arguement (ending with the slamming of a door and a badly bruised finger on Ron as he tried to keep her from leaving).   
Harry whispered, "Savio," and stuffed his wand in his pocket. Their conversation would be recorded on his wand.  
"She makes me so mad!" Ron fumed.   
"Just stop fighting," said Harry, changing into his pajamas (his robes).   
"Why're you putting those on?" Ron asked, pointing to Harry's robes.  
"They're quite comfortable to sleep in, really, so I use them as pajamas instead of Dudley's old ones."  
Ron shrugged as he climbed into bed.   
"I've never gone to bed this early," he said, blowing a candle out. "Weird, huh?"  
"Yeah," said Harry. "I usually study at night."  
"Me too. I just sleep during the days mostly."  
"You sound like me."  
"G'night, Harry."  
"G'night, Ron."  
  
"Wake up boys! Time to get ready!"  
Harry groaned as he sat up in his bed. The sun was yet to rise outside; it must've been around five or six o'clock in the morning, Harry guessed. Ron gave a loud snore from the bed next to him and rolled over.  
"Ron," said Harry quietly. "Ron. RON!"  
Ron snapped up into a sitting position, looked around, then fell back into his bed, fast asleep.   
Harry sighed, knowing the only solution for this. He walked to Ron's door and stuck his head out.  
"Hermione! I need your help, please!" Harry called down the steps.  
The sleepy figure of Hermione appeared at the top of the stairs a moment later, still in her nightdress.   
"What is it, Harry?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.  
"Ron won't get up," Harry explained. "Could you please - um - wake him up? Slap him, pour water on him, kiss him, for all I care."  
Hermione glared at Harry as she turned bright red at the aspect of kissing her best friend. Harry watched from the doorway with an amused look on his face as Hermione slapped Ron once, a very un-Hermione-like thing, then poured a jar of cold water from the bathroom all over him. Ron didn't stir. Hermione gave Harry an amazed look as Ron snored loudly.   
"Ron," said Harry suddenly, taking a few steps forward, "your plan to get her to kiss you didn't work...all you're going to get is a few more slaps and a bucket of ice water all over yourself."  
Ron's sleeping form blushed deeply as he slowly stood up and rubbed his eyes. Hermione goggled at them both for a moment, then left the room, muttering "Boys."  
Harry laughed as Ron stood slowly and shook the water off his bed.   
"I wasn't awake," Ron said, still blushing.   
"Uh-huh. Sure, Ron," said Harry sardonically.  
"I wasn't!"  
Harry shrugged as he brushed his teeth.   
"Hurry up boys!" said Mr. Weasley from downstairs.   
"Coming!" Ron called back.  
Harry spat, then pulled his robes off and shoved a pair of jeans and a shirt on, then pulled his glasses on (How did I forget to put those on?), and headed downstairs, Ron in tow.   
When they reached the kitchen, Hermione, Fred, George, Mr. Weasley and the only Weasley daughter, Ginny, were already there. Harry noted that Ginny's hair was much longer than last year - there were flowing waves of red almost all the way to her waste. He couldn't help but think how much she looked like Lily Potter, his mum. He shook his head ruefully as Mr. Weasley began to explain how they were going to get to Switzerland, carefully leaving out certain parts - Harry suspected he wanted to surprise them a bit.  
"Okay, first we have to take a Portkey to a nearby airport," he said. "We would take one all the way to Switzerland, but a Portkey won't reach that far, I'm afraid. So we'll take a wizard airplane there...I'd tell more, but I don't want to ruin the surprise, as none of you have ever been in a wizard airplane..."  
Hermione looked extremely excited with this fact. Since she had Muggle parents, she hadn't known of the wizarding world until she was eleven, when Hogwarts had sent letters to everyone in their year.   
"So, here's the Portkey," said Mr. Weasley, handing them a housekey. "This takes us to Kings Cross Airport, where our plane is waiting. On three, touch the Portkey. One...two...three..."   
Harry reached out a finger to touch the Portkey as Mrs. Weasley said, "Have fun and be careful!" Everything began to spin out of control.  
A moment later he felt his feet hit the ground hard, but he somehow managed to stay on his feet to investigate their location. It appeared they were in a bathroom. Judging by the shrill screams coming from all around them, a women's bathroom.  
"Er - location must've gotten a bit miffed," said Mr. Weasley, taking out his wand. "Go on out and wait for me at gate twenty-two and one half. Fred, George...you two are in charge while I'm gone..."  
After pulling themselves together, they quickly left the bathroom, the boys blushing furiously.   
"Okay, there's gate twenty-two, and there's gate twenty-three," said George.   
"So we'll wait right there," said Fred, gesturing to the area between the gates.   
The twins led the small group over to that area. They were waiting for Mr. Weasley when Hermione burst out, "I forgot to tell you all, but I've been made a prefect!"  
"Congradulations," said Harry, echoed by Ginny a moment later. Harry glared pointedly at Ron.  
"Yeah, congradulations," muttered Ron.  
A moment later Mr. Weasley bounded over to them.   
"Eurgh," he said, "those women were impossible. Wouldn't hold still long enough for me to obliterate their minds." He glanced at his watch. "We can board now. They won't be announcing our plane's boarding."  
Mr. Weasley stared at the barrier for a moment.  
"Just treat it like the Hogwarts Express barrier," he said. "Just walk casually - "  
But at that moment, Fred, who had been leaning against the barrier to talk, fell through.   
"And, yes, that will work," said Mr. Weasley, laughing.  
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and George went in next, and when Harry looked around, he discovered they were in a long tunnel lit brightly with lights. He gazed around dreamily as he stood up and brushed himself off.   
"Well," said Mr. Weasley brightly, "let's board the plane, shall we?" 


	5. Skiing

First a quick note to Krad Lokamion: I really don't know how many chapters I'll have...I've got the plot and everything developed; it's just a matter of putting it into words.... A rough estimate on chapters'd be about thirty if not a little more, 'cause a lot's gonna happen to poor Harry....  
  
  
Chapter Five  
  
  
Skiing  
  
  
  
Harry walked along the ramp, expecting to see some enourmous plane with odds and ends sticking out everywhere, only to discover that the inside of the plane was very small; there were four seats on each wall of the plane, each facing inward, then a door on Harry's right that said "Pilot's Bunker: UNAUTHORIZED PERSONAL PLEASE DO NOT ENTER. Thank you."   
Harry stood for a moment, watching as Fred and George seated themselves on the first chairs on the right in front of Harry, looking a tad disappointed, but amazed nevertheless. Harry was about to sit down next to Ron when a booming voice made him start.  
"Please take a seat on either side of the...seat places," it said, sounding a bit confused. "Erm...please bare with me, I am a first-time pilot, but I ensure you that you will make it safely to Aust - er! Switzerland, that is!"   
Harry's amazement was instantly replaced by anxiety, and a look at Ron's and Hermione's faces said they were feeling a bit frightened, too. Mr. Weasley sat down across from Ginny, who was on Hermione's left, looking rather green.  
"I'm a little - er - afraid of heights," he explained, "so I had to use a spell that would calm me.... Side effects are rather drastic on one's stomach, I'm afraid..."  
Harry grinned in spite of himself. Ron was looking a tad green, also, but Harry chose not to comment on it. Harry had never been in even a Muggle airplane, so he had had no idea what to expect, but he had thought it would've been a bit flashier than this. He was beginning to get rather board when the same booming voice came on again.  
"Please fasten your safety belts and remain seated for the rest of the trip," it said clearly. "Thank you."  
Harry took his safety belt in his hand (labled Wizards' United, as most of the other items on the plane were - Harry guessed it was the flight company) and quickly latched it to the -   
"Ron, where's the end you strap the buckle to?" Harry asked, feeling around the left side of his seat furiously.  
"What, yours doesn't have one?" Mr. Weasley asked curiously.  
"Not that I can tell..."   
"Wait, Harry! Here it is!" said Ron suddenly, tossing the end Harry was looking for at him. Harry caught it and strapped it on just as the plane began to hum (engines?).   
"How does this thing work, anyhow?" Harry asked Mr. Weasley. Mr. Weasley's eyes glinted as he leaned forward a bit.  
"Some kind of incantation to make something very heavy - like this once-was Muggle plane - fly," he said. "Millions of anti-Muggle spells are placed on it so they can't see it. What we'll actually do" - the plane began to move under them - "is fly up a couple hundred miles, then the entire plane Disapparates, and Apparates above our cabin so we can use a Portkey to enter..."  
Hermione's eyes had began to widen as he said "Disapparate" and "Apparate," and were now the size of saucers.  
"But - we're not allowed to Apparate until we've taken the test," she said, frowning a bit.  
"Yes, but the Ministry cast special spells on these planes so that an incantation will allow it to Disapparate and then Apparate back again," said Mr. Weasley as the plane lifted off the ground and shook slightly. "And the pilots have been through months if not years of training on Apparition. If they mess up, they can go to Azkaban for life for murdering people, even if it is unintentional."  
Hermione seemed satisfied with his explanation as the plane began to glide smoothly upward, almost pitched ninety degrees. The chairs began to slide around and formed two rows at the end furthest from the pilot's bunker. Harry jumped when this first began to happen; he hadn't expected this...  
"Unfortunately," continued Mr. Weasley, "when the destination is as far away as Switzerland, even with Apparition, there's a lot of interference, so it takes several hours. I'd say about three for us; it's kind of like the Muggle movie Star Wars when they go into hyperspace."  
"You've seen Star Wars?" Hermione asked curiously.  
"Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley brightly as the chairs rocked slightly, "I love Muggle movies, and Star Wars is a classic. Even wizards a familiar with Kedis and Smitesabers!"  
Hermione giggled.  
"Jedis and Lightsabers," she corrected, continuing to giggle a bit.  
"Oh yes! Of course!" said Mr. Weasley.   
"We have now Apparated," said the booming voice. "You may move about until further notified."  
The chairs slid back to their original spots, and Fred and George immediately unbuckled their seatbelts and walked around the room.   
"Can we go through this door, Dad?" Fred asked, putting a hand on the doorknob of a door behind where the seats had been during the nosepitch. Harry could've sworn it wasn't there before.  
"Oh yes, that's the lobby," said Mr. Weasley.  
"Lobby?" repeated Harry, echoed by Hermione and Ron a moment later.  
"Yes," said Mr. Weasley. "Food, and a few Muggle games that Hermione'll explain to you all."  
Harry unbuckled his seatbelt and headed for the door, following Fred and George closely; Ron, Hermione, and Ginny followed him in suite. As they entered the room, Harry's eyes widened in shock, and he heard Hermione gasp behind him.   
The room was about fifty feet long, and fifty feet wide; on the left there were tables filled with plates of food, in the middle there were a lot of Muggle things; Harry recognized an air hockey table, a ping-pong board, and a few arcade games. The right had two doors; a men's and women's bathroom on each side.   
Harry noticed his mouth had been open and quickly closed it. He realized he shouldn't have been too surprised; last year at the Quidditch World Cup, the tents Mr. Weasley had had were shabby on the outside and huge on the inside. It was still rather amazing.   
"Harry, d'you know how to play any of these games?" Ron asked, staring at the air hockey table in the middle of the room and grabbing one of the blockers.  
Harry shook his head.  
"Hermione?" Ron asked.  
"Yes," said Hermione. "That's called air hockey. I don't know exactly how it works; I think there's air running across the board and that's what makes the puck move. The puck is that little piece of plastic right there. The object of the game is to get the puck into the little slot on the opposite side of the side you're on. The person with the most goals at the end of the game wins."  
It took them quite a few games (one Sickle each), but after a while Ron finally could beat Hermione, and so could Harry. Hermione was actually quite good at air hockey, but Harry and Ron eventually got into a match against each other. After a thirty minute furious battle, the game came out tied, thirteen to thirteen. Hermione explained ping-pong to them next; she was definately better at this sport than either Harry or Ron, and Ron lost horribly to her. Harry also lost, making Hermione the champion at ping-pong. Three hours later, Ron was playing Pac Man (at which he was very good at, it appeared, but didn't see how Muggles could sit there for hours playing it), Harry was beating Ginny at air hockey, and Hermione was eating chocolate for a change (dentist parents, Harry thought, could be a bad thing).   
"I scored!" Ginny screeched suddenly, causing everyone but Harry to jump; Harry glared in false anger at her across the table.  
"Next goal wins," said Harry. The score was now five to five, and they had been playing for an hour. Their game came to an unfortunate end, however, as the booming voice told everyone to go back to their seats.  
Harry buckled himself tightly into his seat.   
"Ready the Portkey, Mr. Weasley," boomed the voice, "we're about to arrive."  
Mr. Weasley took a banana out of his pocket as he strapped himself in.   
"On three jump out of your seats and grab the Portkey," said the voice. "One...two.... THREE!"   
Harry sprang from his seat and touched the Portkey, as did everyone else, and everything began to spin.  
  
Harry's feet slammed into the ground and nearly gaveway under him, but he managed to keep himself standing. Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ron were the only others to stay standing; the girls had fallen upon impact. As Harry stood and dusted himself off, he investigated the place he was at curiously. They were standing on a verandah, apparently; snow was falling softly around them, and there was a door in front of Harry. The porch was painted red, and there was smoke coming from the chimney, which was perched atop the roof.  
"I've got the key right...here," said Mr. Weasley, withdrawing a key from his pocket. He put it in the door and let them in, Fred and George going first, then Ginny and Hermione, then Harry and Ron. The cabin wasn't as impressive as the airplane was, however; there were three little rooms with two beds in each upstairs, and one bed downstairs past the living room; the living room had a television in it, a fireplace, and a very worn sofa. The stairway upstairs was directly in front of the door, and behind it was a stairway to the basement; the basement was full of sofas and had three old non-operative televisions (two with their screens busted in, the other in complete shambles), and one operative one.   
"Ron and Harry sleep in the room to the right, then left upstairs," said Mr. Weasley to them as they congregated in the living room, "Hermione and Ginny get the one to the right then right again, and Fred and George can have the lone room to the left."  
They all nodded in agreement.  
"Now, I've got to be in Bern for two days to help sort this out," said Mr. Weasley slowly, "so Fred and George are in charge while I'm gone.... Don't blow the house up, boys...it's the Switz Ministry's...."  
Fred and George just grinned somewhat evilly. Mr. Weasley grinned shakily back, then Mr. Weasley turned back to the others.  
"You can go skiing today, as it's ten o'clock right now," he said. "I told Ron where the ski slope is, so follow him. You can get there by broomstick as long as you STAY BELOW THE TREELINES AND DO NOT RISE UP ABOVE! You could get me and yourselves in a heap of trouble if you're seen, and I'm hesitant to let you go at all...but I don't want to let you two" - he gestured to Fred and George - "loose in Switzerland behind the wheel of a car. DO NOT RISE TOO HIGH! And if any of you can't fly well, ride with Harry or Ron - they're both naturals."  
"What about us?!" demanded Fred.   
"I know you can fly well, but..." He winked at Fred and George, which went unnoticed by Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Fred and George suddenly both grinned very widely, and Harry cast a weary glance at Ron, who returned it.  
"Okay, here're three broomsticks, Fred's, George's, and Ron's," Mr. Weasley continued. "And Harry - your broomstick's upstairs with your other things."  
Harry nodded, then raced upstairs to get his Firebolt. In Ron's and his room, one bed had Hedwig and Harry's huge trunk on it; the other had Ron's trunk and Pigwidgeon's cage. Harry raced to his trunk, opened it, and grabbed his Firebolt eagerly, once more ready to fly. He raced back downstairs to find the others were already outside; Mr. Weasley had Disapparated.   
"Ready to go, Harry?" George asked.   
Harry nodded fervently, then peered down for a closer look at the handles of Fred's, George's, and Ron's brooms.  
"Nimbus Two Thousands?" Harry mouthed to Fred. Fred grinned and winked at Harry.   
"Gin's gotta ride with you, mate," said George, gesturing to Harry, "and Hermione'll ride with Ron."  
They nodded, Hermione and Ginny a little less enthusiastically; Harry wasn't sure whether it was at the idea of sharing a broom with Ron and he or if they had a fear of heights. He was guessing more the latter.  
"All right boys and girls," said Fred, "climb aboard and follow" - he gasped loudly - "Ickle Ronniekins!"  
Ron glared at him as he climbed aboard his broomstick. Hermione slowly got on behind him, looking quite terrified. Harry climbed on his Firebolt and waited for Ginny to get on behind him before taking off directly behind Fred; Ron had gone first, the Fred, then Harry, then George. They sped down the slopes before Ron darted into a small forest; Harry saw why he'd done so a few moments later - the path opened up, and cars were driving back and forth across a road. The trek through the forest was hard, even for Harry. As he darted in and out of trees, Ginny's hands flew around his waste tightly, and her grip was continually tightening to the point he had to say, "Breathe!" and she loosened her grip a bit. After a moment, Ron slowed down to a complete stop.  
"We're to the end of the forest," he announced as the others landed next to him. "The slope is right ahead of us. Dad said they take wizard money, so Harry can pay for his and we'll pay for everyone else's."  
"Hey!" said Hermione. "I've got wizard money!"  
"How much?"   
"Ten Galleons."  
"That'll be enough, I think. Now, follow me!"  
They walked out of the forest to find a white mountain lying before them. Hermione and Ginny gasped as Ron headed towards a large building, gesturing for them to leave their broomsticks there. Harry hastily complied, but he didn't like the thought of leaving his Firebolt behind. Ron led them to a set of glass doors and took them towards a section of the counter that said, "Wizards Only," and Harry guessed Muggles couldn't see it.  
"So, watcha want?" the wizard at the counter asked, smiling at them.   
"Um...we want to rent four skiis," said Ron.   
"Gotcha," the wizard said. He turned and went into a back room, humming quietly to himself. He came back a moment later, holding eight long rods in sets of two. "That'll be...I think I'll give yeh a bit of a discount since yer my first customers t'day...fifteen Galleons fer yeh all!"  
Ron's eyes widened, then he gave the wizard fifteen gold coins.   
"What can I get fer you two?" the wizard asked. "I'm Dol Tallow, by the way."  
"I want to rent a pair of skiis," said Hermione.  
"Okie-dokie," said Dol Tallow, and he disappeared in the back room again, then came back with another pair of skiis. "Two Galleons."  
Hermione gave him two Galleons, then Harry stepped up.  
"And you'd be Harry Potter, right?" Dol asked curiously. Seeing Harry's shock, he continued, "One o' the best Divinators in the world, I am.... You lot go t' Hogwarts, right?"   
They nodded.   
"Never like Beauxbatons," said Dol. "Anyway, wha'd'you want, Mr. Potter?"  
"What else d'you have other than skiis?" Harry asked, thinking hard.  
"Well, we got snowboards - very popular with the kids 'round here, 'specially Muggles - and little skiis that're about two feet long each. Those're the ones I use 'cause they're like skating more 'n the others. I play hockey for the Toronto Maple Leafs in Canada and America, by the way, this is just my summer job."  
Harry thought for a moment.  
"I'll try the little skiis," he said finally.   
"All righty!" Dol disappeared once more, then reappeared with two little skiis in his hands. "Think they're called Mini-Skiis, but I don't know. I call 'em Baby Skiis, personally. Three Galleons."  
Harry took out three Galleons and paid Dol.  
"Thank yeh kindly, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, Weasley children," he said. "Have fun and be careful. If yeh need help, I also give an instructory course for beginners."  
"All right," said Ron, taking his skiis, "thanks, Mr. Tallow."  
Dol nodded, then Harry grabbed his "Baby" skiis and followed Ron, Fred, George, Hermione, and Ginny out of the building through the backdoor. The slopes were slicked with white; it appeared Harry had been right when he'd thought about it snowing. He didn't know if it was just the weather, or if some wizard had enchanted the snow to fall.  
"Okay," said Ron, "now we take this thingy - ski lift, I think - to the top of the mountain, then we ski back down. Me and Hermione'll go first."  
As they walked towards another booth labled "Wizards," Harry heard Hermione nagging Ron about his grammar.  
"It's Hermione and I!"  
Harry grinned as they spoke to the witch at the booth, then got on a single red chair a moment later.   
"Harry, you and Gin go next," said Fred, grinning evilly.  
Harry clutched his skiis tightly in his arms as they went over to the witch in charge of the ski lift.  
"How're you this fine day?" she asked brightly. "Hold on a moment while the next chair comes around."  
They waited for a moment, until a bright orange chair flew around.  
"All right, just stand there and let it pick you up off your feet," said the witch. "Be careful."  
Harry stood on Ginny's right as the chair swooped him off his feet, and they began to rise. Harry peered down at the snow curiously. He'd always been around snow at Hogwarts, but he still liked it a lot, mainly because the Dursleys had never let him play in snow before.   
Ginny suddenly shivered next to him.  
"Afraid of heights?" he asked curiously, glancing at her briefly.  
"Yes, a little," said Ginny, blushing. But for once, Harry thought that it was because she was afraid of heights that she was blushing; usually when he talked to her she blushed. For some reason, a little splotch of anger welled in him.  
"Have you ever been skiing before?" Ginny asked.  
Harry let out a hollow laugh.  
"With the Dursleys? Yeah right. They wouldn't so much as let me out of the house."  
Ginny nodded.   
They were finally nearing the summit a moment later, and Harry watched Ron and Hermione click their skiis on. Harry and Ginny waited a moment more before a wizard helped them out of the ski lift when they reached the top.   
"Now," said the wizard once Fred and George were there, "there's the beginner course." He pointed towards the slope on the far right. "The intermediate, and the expert course - Hippogriff's Rampage. Be careful."  
Harry clicked his minute skiis on, then headed towards the far right course.  
"C'mon Harry," said Ron, beckoning him over to the middle course, "how hard could this one be?"  
"Very," stated Harry. "I'm going down the beginner at first. I don't feel like having a broken nose before Quidditch starts..."  
Ron nodded slowly, then slid over to the beginner's course. The path looked pretty straight to Harry, but with lots of trees.  
"Here goes nothing," muttered Harry, pushing off with his right foot. He started down the fairly steep slope, gaining speed as he went. He turned his skiis sideways a bit, slowing himself. Wow, he thought, this is fun. He continued down the slope, bypassing the ramps, until he finally got enough courage to try one...hey, he reasoned, what's a broken nose? He hit the ramp, flew through the air a few feet, then landed perfectly on his feet and skidded to a stop.  
He turned to watch Ron come down the slope. Ron was having a bit of a rougher time, it appeared; he was skidding down on his bottom most of the way. He got to the bottom a moment later, and finally picked himself up, rubbing his bottom.   
"Ow," he muttered. "You were good."  
"Thanks," said Harry.   
Hermione made it down very slowly, but remained on her feet and did not try any ramps, as Ron hadn't. Ginny came down a little faster, and made it fine, too. Fred and George barreled down the mountain as fast as they could, hitting every ramp along the way. When they reached Harry and the others, they were covered in snow and laughing their heads off at each other.   
"Good run, Harry!" George said through his laughter. "We tried a few ramps...didn't quite...make it...did we...?"  
Harry laughed. Pretty soon they were heading back up the mountain to give it another go, Harry and Ron in tow.  
  
By the end of the day, Harry was wet from head to toe, red from the cold, and, all in all, a very happy wizard. Ron had gotten progressively better, and had even tried a ramp or two. He'd made it on both, but his bottom was very sore by the end of the day. Hermione and Ginny got their speed up, also, and Ginny tried a ramp ("I told you not to, Gin!"). Fred and George didn't get better; in fact, they only got worse, but laughed harder and harder about it each time. Harry was wondering about their sanity as they turned their skiis in.  
"See yeh, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, Weasleys," said Dol as they left. "Hope yeh had fun!"  
They flew back to the cabin, Harry and Ginny laughing and chatting along the way. When they reached the cabin, they were all ready for a long night's rest.... And Fred had mentioned something about a pillow fight tomorrow... 


	6. Meeting the Switz Minister

'Nother quick note: I'd say I'll probably get up a chapter a night unless I experience writer's block, which I doubt will happen because I've got the essential parts of the plot worked out (what's going to happen to Harry, basically), I've just gotta fill in the holes with fluffiness like last chapter. And, by the way, thanks to those who have reviewed. You guys really flatter me.... I never thought people would actually like my stories.... Another note, one that I've just discovered: My spell check has crashed. It's not working. This sucks. Bare with me with my grammatical and spelling errors.  
  
  
Chapter Six  
  
  
  
Meeting the Switz Minister  
  
  
  
  
Harry's eyes opened to slits the next morning. His body was aching from the ski trip; he now thought he'd just stick to Quidditch.... Much less painful than skiing....  
He opened his eyes a little more. Well, he thought ruefully, at least I know the skiing had nothing to do with my sore muscles. He'd apparently fallen into the floor last night on the left side of his bed, sandwiching him up against the wall. He opened his eyes completely now, searching for his glasses. He'd left them on last night when he'd went to bed, but now they were nowhere to be found. He'd probably rolled over on top of them in his sleep.... Great, he thought, just what I need - my glasses are lying broken somewhere.  
"Ron?" he muttered, rising his head enough to see over his bed. Ron seemed to be asleep, though; there was a great lump on his bed, but it wasn't moving. Harry clambored out of the tiny space between his bed and the wall, and walked over to Ron's bed. He took out his wand and prodded the lump. Nothing happened.   
"Ron, wake up," Harry said sleepily. He was about to prod the lump-of-Ron a few more times when a piece of yellow parchment on the night stand caught his eye. He snatched it up and read it.   
  
Harry,  
Took Ron. Couldn't find you. Actually, we were too lazy to bend over to where you were. Do you often sleep in the floor? That's a very...strange...habbit. Anyway, if you wanna get Ron back, too bad. You'll have to find him on your own. With the help of our ingenious riddle: Ronniekins is hiding, in our secret lair; you'll prob'ly never find it, but try if you dare (corny, huh, Harry?); this one clue we'll leave, but you should take heed: if you don't like heights, don't get a nosebleed. (George claims that "poem," not me. It was all HIS idea, not MINE. MINE was better. OW! George, what'd you do that for?!)  
  
Signed,  
Fred and a very angry George  
  
Harry sighed, knowing Fred and George's idea of fun was about to make him scour the house until he found a...secret passageway? Well.... How hard could it be?  
  
Two hours later, Harry sat down on the sofa in front of the fireplace, exhausted. He'd combed every inch of the cabin, but found nothing (if three Sickles, two Knuts, and a lot of angry mice aren't counted). Fred and George were just too good. He'd been upstairs, downstairs, through the living room, everywhere. Fred, George, and Ron were nowhere to be found. It also appeared that they'd taken Ginny and Hermione with them; the girls were not in any of the places he'd been.   
"Guys, I give up, just come out already," muttered Harry exasperatedly. He had, however, found his glasses; they had been lying neatly on the stand near the sofa.   
Suddenly a bunch of feathers fell all over him. He looked around, bewildered. Feathers? From the sky, maybe? No, they couldn't be from the sky - the sky was outside, not inside. Then he looked slowly upward.  
Fred (George?) was standing about ten feet up, grinning mischeiviously. There was apparently a loft Harry had not been told of; Fred (George?) was not standing on nothing.  
"So," Fred (George?) cackled gleefully. "D'you give up?"  
"First thing's first," said Harry, "are you Fred or George?"  
"Why, Harry, I'm surprised at you!" the twin said, continuing to grin. "I'd have thought you'd have known me from Fred!"  
"Sorry, George," said Harry.  
"No, no. I'm Fred," said the twin happily. "D'you give?"  
"Yes! Just tell me where you were!"   
"Secret passageway. Go upstairs to our room."  
Harry sighed loudly, then got up and walked over to the stairs and climbed slowly up them. When he got to the top, he turned left and proceeded to walk into Fred and George's room. When he walked in, he was suddenly ambushed by millions of pillows hitting him in the face, and many loud screams.   
After a moment, he was on the floor, and Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George were throwing pillows down on him as he managed to keep his glasses from falling off his face. After another moment, Harry had taken everyone else's pillows, tossed all but two down behind him where the others weren't, and was beating them all down, until they all ended up on Fred or George's bed, laughing.  
"I'm gonna kill you guys one day," Harry muttered through his laughs, straightening his glasses.   
"Aw, you'd never kill us, would you Harry?" George asked innocently. "And, if you would, why? We're perfect little angels..."  
"Yeah right," Ron said, picking himself up.   
"Oh, you should talk, Mr. I'm-Gonna-Follow-Harry-Even-If-We-Break-Every-Hogwarts-Rule," said Fred, also rising.   
"Well, he's my best friend!"   
"Yeah, and Fred's my best brother," said George, "so I have to follow HIM around."  
Fred whacked George over the head with his hand as everyone else stood slowly. The twins continued hitting each other, until everyone was once more rolling with laughter (they'd both messed up their hair very badly). Even Hermione was chortling for once; Ron seemed to notice this also and gave Hermione a rare (for Ron and Hermione) smile. Harry felt his stomach turn over.  
"Well, seeing as Dad's getting back tonight, we've got all day..." said George. "Want to play Quidditch?"  
"You can't," said Hermione, "too many Muggles."  
"Aw, c'mon, Hermi," whined Ron. Harry made another mental note at the use of "Hermi." "They won't see us!"  
"It's too risky," said Hermione briskly and finally.   
"Well then, how about making things a little...interesting....?" said Harry suddenly, an idea forming in his head.   
"What d'you mean, Harry?" Ginny asked, speaking for the first time all morning.   
"How about we have a little race through the woods?" he said, his green eyes glinting in the room's light. "First one to the clearing wins...er..."  
"Losers get to be tortured in whatever way the winner likes," said George. "Harry, Ron, Fred, and me will race first, then the girls can - "  
"No way," Hermione and Ginny chorused.   
"Well then, gentlemen," said Fred, in a mock-gentlemanish voice, "shall we begin?"  
Harry, Ron, and George nodded fervently.  
"Grab your broomsticks, and we'll meet in the forest in five minutes!" Fred shouted.   
Harry grinned, then ran to his and Ron's room to fetch his Firebolt. He bounded down the stairs a moment later, then rushed outside to find Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny already there. Ron arrived a moment later with his Nimbus Two Thousand.  
"Okay," began George, "I'd say we start out here, and we have to stay below the treeline - no cheating! First one there wins, but has to stay to prove he was there. And, to make things more interesting, both the girls have to kiss the winner - "  
Hermione's and Ginny's mouths opened furiously, but Fred finished for his brother: "On the cheek."  
Hermione and Ginny still didn't seem to keen on the idea, but finally agreed to it ("Do it or I'll hex you!" said Fred and George over and over, until Ginny was wobbling around with the Jelly-Legs Curse, causing them both to agree and Hermione to perform the counter-curse).   
"All right, Hermione, you start the race off," said Ron. "Count to three. If anyone cheats, they get hexed."  
The boys nodded.  
"Three..." said Hermione, "two...one...go!"  
Harry pushed off hard and away they went. Harry jumped into the lead, and held it for a moment until George nearly swiped him into a tree, which caused him to fall back behind the others. He slowed for a moment, unwilling to hit the many trees. Ron seemed to have gotten the same idea; he was nearly back down to Harry's spot. Then the trees parted a bit, and Harry darted off again, leaning close to his broom. He wove in and out of trees until he finally saw George up ahead; Fred had fallen off someway back, putting him in last. Harry raced onward, blowing Ron off in the dust (or in our case snow). After a moment of steady speed, Harry was neck and neck with George. They were nearing the clearing by now, and George turned to smile at Harry.  
"I know you'll enjoy this more than me," he said, then dropped straight back. Harry's head turned with George's speeding broomstick, until he snapped it back around in time to dodge a tree. Finally the clearing was a few feet away, and Harry flew to it and landed softly on the snow. Ron appeared next, then George, then a snow-covered Fred, who was laughing his head off.  
"Well," said George, "how about we race back, too? Hermione kisses the winner on the cheek; Ginny'll be glad to take care of you, Harry."  
Harry blushed deeply.  
"All right then," said Ron suddenly. "Let's go."  
As they lined up, Fred leaned over to Harry and whispered, "Let Ron win it. He'll love this."  
Harry grinned and nodded.  
"Three, two, one, go!" shouted George.   
This time, Harry didn't immediately kick off; he waited a moment, then took off at full speed. Ron would be too far ahead by now to catch unless he hit a tree. The snow had been toppling down on them in the clearing, but now the forest was blocking the snow, and also the wind. In fact, everything went deadly still. Harry felt a chill creep down his spine, and sped up slightly, continuing to weave in and out of the trees. He finally made it back to the cabin, coming in last this time.   
He landed quickly and softly on the snow, only to look up a moment later into a very wide man's face and shrink back down.  
"What in Merlin's name were you doing?!" Mr. Weasley had stepped out from behind the wide man, and his face was livid. "Muggles could've seen you! I told you only to ride to the resort, and only yesterday!"  
"You gave dese children permission to ride dose broomsticks?" the wide man asked, showing a very Dutch-like accent. "Arthur, dey could've been spotted. It vos too risky."  
"Kids, meet Mr. Mundanian, the Minster of Switzerland's Ministry of Magic," said Mr. Weasley. "He came over to meet you all."  
Harry looked over to Fred and George, who were scowling as they kicked snow at each other softly. Hermione was looking very disapproving, Ron was staring wide-eyed at the Minister (whom Harry guessed was half giant), and Ginny was kicking snow around her feet. Harry stood there, watching Mr. Mundanian's eyes form narrow slits.  
"Um...sorry?" said Harry uncertainly.   
"Yes, well, you should be," said Mr. Weasley mock-seriously, as Harry saw him wink behind Mundanian's back. "And I will be sure to punish them properly, Minister."  
"Thank you, Arthur," said Mundanian. "Now, as for de incedent with the various flying objects: Thank you very much for coming dis far. We will always remember you well, Arthur. Don' go flying around here anymore, children."  
Harry nodded, as he was the only one in front of the Minister, then watched as the Minister waddled down the pathway. Harry expected he had a ride at the street on the bottom of the hill. Harry turned back to Mr. Weasley.  
"Well, kids, you shouldn't have been racing," said Mr. Weasley slowly, "but who won?"  
Harry, Ron, Fred, and George's faces cracked into grins.  
"Harry won on the way to the clearing," said Fred.   
"And Ron won on the way back," finished George, grinning.   
"Oh good! A Weasley won!" said Mr. Weasley brightly. "Good job boys! But don't mess around anymore. Don't want Mundanian back here...."  
"How much longer are we staying here?" Ginny asked as they walked back inside the cabin.  
"Well, it had been for another week, but the problem was resolved much quicker than we'd thought," said Mr. Weasley, opening the door. "So we leave tomorrow morning."  
Everyone groaned.  
"Aw, but Dad, I don't want to leave," Fred whined.   
"Maybe sometime we'll be able to come back. Now, I thought we could just take a nice long nap today..."  
Everyone moaned again.  
"Or you could do your homework."  
"We'll settle for the nap," said Ron quickly. "I don't want to do Potions."  
"All right then, you can pile up in the living room if you want, or you can go to your rooms."  
He bid them goodbye, then headed for his room, stretching.   
"Well," sniffed Hermione, "I'm going to do homework."  
She had started to leave as Ron sat down on the couch. Ron grabbed him arm and tugged on it slightly.  
"Aw Hermione," said Ron, grinning, "let's just rest."  
"Yeah, and you owe Ron a kiss, Hermione," Fred piped in.   
"And Ginny owes Harry one," said George, grinning broadly.   
Hermione's mouth opened in horror, while Ginny blushed very deeply. Hermione glared at them all, then walked upstairs. Ginny stood for a moment, then headed on upstairs after Hermione.  
"Well, let's go to sleep, shall we?" said George brightly.  
Harry walked over to the couch and plopped down on it, stretching his legs. Ron stood up and walked over to the fireplace and laid down, while Fred and George headed for the "secret room" of theirs. Harry closed his eyes slowly, and eventually fell into a restless sleep.  
  
"James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, please report to Professor Dumbledore's office," boomed a loud voice throughout the halls of Hogwarts. James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, who had been sitting in Double Potions with the Slytherins, gave each other high-fives.  
"Outta this dungeon," Sirius declared, receiving a glare from a gnarled looking man at the front of the room. "Forgive me, Professor Talish, but we are late for a date with our dear Professor McGonagall."  
Sirius bowed his way out of the dungeon, followed shortly by James, Remus, and Peter, all of whom were laughing.  
"Wonder what we did this time?" Remus mused as they walked through the cold dungeon.  
"I'd say it was probably the..." Sirius stopped midsentance. "Hey! We haven't done anything recently!"  
"Yeah, well, maybe the girls did something without our concent," said Sirius in mock-offence.  
"Could've been our moderation of the order of library books..." mused James thoughtlessly.   
"Yeah," Peter laughed squeakily, "Madam Pinch was very irked at us."  
"That was one of our best," said Sirius proudly. "Well, we're here."   
They had reached the Transfiguration classroom; Professor McGonagall was the teacher of Transfiguration. Remus was about to rap on the door when Sirius barged in on the Professor's third year class.  
"Black, do you know the meaning of a knock?" the professor asked, slightly irritated. "Potter, take your little group to my office. And DO NOT MESS WITH ANYTHING UNTIL I GET IN THERE."  
James grinned mischeiviously, then led Sirius, Remus, and Peter to the door behind Professor McGonagall's desk.   
"Be quick, Professor," Sirius whispered, "we've got a date with an ugly git in Double Potions. His cauldron needs a little brightening up."  
Sirius ran inside the door before McGonagall could figure out what he'd said. The group was very familiar with McGonagall's office; she usually didn't send them to Dumbledore's office, it was always her's. And they usually came back with a month's detention. Not that they care; getting out of Potions was worth a year of detention.  
After a moment of sitting at the four neatly arranged chairs, the door opened again and Professor McGonagall came in, looking livid.  
"Aw, what'd we do this time, Professor?" Sirius asked in a whiny voice.  
McGonagall ignored him, then walked around to her desk and drew out some papers.  
"As much as I hate to say it," she said, "you lot scored higher on your O.W.L.s last year than anyone. You know that, don't you?" They all nodded. "Well, I'm curious as to how you did it. James, Sirius, and Remus, I can understand that. Remus studies a lot, he's a prefect; and you and Sirius, Potter, seem to know everything already, and your both prefects. So, Pettigrew, how'd you do it?"  
"He studied for about nine months in advance," said Sirius, grinning. "We helped him, too, didn't we, Wormy?"  
Peter nodded.   
"I studied a LOT," he said.   
"Well...okay, then..."  
"Professor, what did you really call us in here for?" James asked. "I know it wasn't for that."  
McGonagall eyed James very strangely, then sighed a very prolonged sigh.  
"James," she said slowly, "Voldemort is after you." And she winced at herself for saying his name, as the boys all stared at each other blankly.  
"Why?" James asked finally.  
McGonagall stared at James, as though contemplating whether or not to tell him something. Finally she took a sharp breath.  
"It begins, James, about four hundred fifty years ago," she said slowly. "Has Professor Flitwick taught you about Phoenix Song Charms?" James nodded. "Four hundred fifty years ago, Fawkes, Albus's phoenix, spoke to a man by the name of Nicolas Flamel - he was very good with Charms. He interpreted the message, and broadcast it across the country. It said - it said that a dark wizard would rise, more powerful even than Grindelwald was at that time, and that his only defeat would be by your child, James."  
James stared open-mouthed at his Transfiguration teacher.   
"Child?" he said after a moment. "Did it - did it tell who I'm going to marry, also? What if I don't?"  
"Yes, it told who you were going to marry, but we cannot reveal that information to you. Albus wanted you to know, and wanted to tell you himself, but he is in France, helping rebuild Paris from an attack by want-to-be You-Know-Who supporters. That is all I can tell you...except.... Sorry, Potter," she whispered the final words very softly, and James was the only one who heard.  
"You may go now," she said, regaining her composure.  
James nodded.   
"Albus will call you to his office the moment he gets back."  
  
Harry's dream slowly faded, and he would later wake, once more forgetting it. 


	7. Back to England...and Hogwarts

  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
  
Back to England...and Hogwarts  
  
  
  
  
Harry woke up slowly, inwardly groaning as he opened his eyes to slits. The seen before him had now changed, it appeared; Hermione was lying next to Ron, and Fred and George were tossing and turning about on the floor. Ginny wasn't there, as far as he could tell.   
  
He stretched his arms as he closed his eyes tightly, attempting to wake himself. After hearing a few pops from his elbows and wrist, he opened his eyes again. The fire was burning brightly in the fireplace, and snow was tumbling gently from the now dark sky. He brought his watch to his nose and squinted at it without putting his glasses back on (he'd taken them off sometime during his nap). It appeared to read eleven seventeen, P.M. One heck of a long nap, he thought with a chuckle.   
  
Harry stood slowly up, then thought better of it and sat back down on the sofa, staring mindlessly at the flames as they cracked and popped. The fire licked at the glass caging surrounding it on the visible side. The fire was very bright indeed; it lit up the whole of the living room with its flickering light. A lot like the common room, Harry mused. The flames settled down a bit, only to flare sharply a moment later. It had nearly burnt itself out. In an odd way, this was partially how Harry felt...burning down the last pieces of the remnents of himself...too much had happened. A lot like the fire.... Burning itself down until it finally faded completely out, all its wood burnt, and no more to come unless someone picked it up....  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry jumped at the sound of someone's frail voice from the stairs. His head swiveled slowly around to find Ginny standing there, her red hair shimmering in the flickering light. He turned his attention back to the flames.  
  
"Yes?" he said, reaching for his glasses (how do I keep forgetting these?).   
  
"Are you awake?" Ginny asked, taking a few steps forward.  
  
"Obviously so," he said, smiling. "I woke up a few moments ago."  
  
Ginny took a few more steps forward until she was standing next to his spot on the sofa. She sat down next to him slowly, gazing into the flames like he had been.  
  
Harry suddenly realized he'd been staring at her, and quickly turned back to the fire. It crackled again, then died completely with a loud pop! that echoed through the living room and rest of the house.  
  
"Why're you awake?" Harry asked in a whisper, as to not awake the others.  
  
"One might ask you the same question," said Ginny with a grin.   
  
Harry shrugged.  
  
"I don't really know why I'm awake...." he said slowly. "I think I'd been dreaming of something or other though."  
  
"I got tired of Potions," said Ginny. "I hate that subject."  
  
Harry said nothing for a moment. He just stared blankly into the smothered fire, feeling empty and attempting to recal the dream he'd been having. He couldn't remember anything of it....   
  
"Well," he said slowly, "I think I'll head upstairs to go to bed. We've got to leave early tomorrow morning."  
  
Ginny nodded.   
  
"I think I'll stay here a few more minutes," she said.   
  
"Night, Ginny," said Harry as he walked up the stairs slowly, wondering why a nagging voice told him to stay. He was involved within his mind's conflicts so much that he barely heard Ginny stutter a goodnight. He continued up the stairs, slower still than before.   
  
When he reached his and Ron's room, he walked over to the window and peered outside. Slowly, Harry opened the window and stuck his head outside. The snow had subsided. There was no wind moving at all. There was not a single sound coming from the surrounding forest. Everything had gone deadly still, as it had been when he'd been on his broomstick coming back to the cabin. Something wasn't right....  
  
A shadow darted through the forest. Harry squinted through the darkness as he took out his wand and whispered "Nox." The lights in the room flicked off. The moonlight was casting an eerie shadow down on the forest's many trees, giving them a ghostly glow of a blueish color. Wand clutched tightly in his hand, Harry continued to peer through the window. Another shadow darted around again, twisting and twirling around the forest. Harry stared hard down at the trees, watching the shadow twist and twirl around more as leaves crunched softly under the pattering feet of the figure. Suddenly, the figure raised its arms (Human?), and out of nowhere the wind began to howl wildly. The window slammed down on Harry's neck, causing him to recoil sharply and nearly scream. The glass from the window shattered as he stepped back.  
  
Laughter sounded through the forest. Not high laughter like Harry was used to; this was rather low pitched, but maniacal all the same. Harry crawled to the window, still clutching the back of his neck, and saw that the figure was still twirling in circles. But something was different about it...its arms seemed to be spinning so fast that Harry saw more than one at a time.... The wind stopped howling abruptly, and laughter rang through the forest again. All was silent for a moment after that.  
  
"Potter...." a low voice sneered. "Run...run.... Now.... Just run...."  
  
Well, thought Harry, I think I'll run. But his legs seemed unwilling to form an agreement with his mind; he stood transfixed to the spot, watching the twirling figure without blinking. Suddenly, a long phrase of words that sounded like Latin to Harry rang out sharply, and the wind howled once more shrilling. A ghostly whistling rang sharply, as more words were cried into the night. The woods before him were suddenly lit with bright torchlight, but no torches were in sight, and no figures appeared. The shadowy figure had disappeared.  
  
Harry snapped back to reality and ran down the stairs quickly, only pausing to release Hedwig (she flew away into the opposite direction of the torchlight) and grab his Firebolt. He came to a hault downstairs. Ginny was still sitting on the sofa, staring at the now roaring fire.  
  
"What - "  
  
"We've got to get out of here," Harry interupted Ginny. "I'm not joking. Now."   
  
Without waiting for an answer, Harry quickly and quietly woke Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George, then ran to Mr. Weasley's room and woke him.   
  
"What's wrong, Harry?" George asked as Harry and Mr. Weasley came back into the room.   
  
"Torches," said Harry breathlessly, "laughter...figure...go! Now! Don't argue with me! Get on your broomsticks and go!"  
  
Harry took his Firebolt outside and padded softly through the snow. The wind was still howling wildly, but the laughter had stopped. He couldn't see if the torches were there; the window was facing the back of the house.  
  
"Ginny, get on," he commanded as Ginny and the others ran out. "We've got to get out of here."  
  
Ginny climbed on the back of the Firebolt without hesitation. Harry kicked off quickly, without waiting for the others. He flew straight towards the forest they'd raced through hours before. He looked back over his shoulder to see the others were following. He didn't stop until he came to the clearing, and there he landed sofly on the snow, letting Ginny off the back of his broomstick as he did.  
  
The others arrived a moment later.   
  
"Harry, what is going on?" Hermione asked in her superior tone.   
  
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but was cut short. A loud explosion had sounded throughout the stillness of the forest. Upon looking through the trees, they saw the cabin was engulfed in flames. Hermione's mouth hung open wordlessly, as did everyone else's but Harry's. Harry just watched their cabin flare up brightly, a glazed look in his eyes.   
  
"We...we could've been in that..." said Hermione slowly.  
  
"Just lucky I have a thing for trouble," said Harry. And that I don't listen to nagging voices, he added to himself. "The Ministry'll be here soon, won't they?"  
  
Mr. Weasley nodded.  
  
A moment later, Harry's suspicions were confirmed; maroon cars labled "Switz Ministry" were pulling up through the   
  
  
The flight back to England was much less exciting than the one there. Everyone was very quiet, and to Harry the Weasleys and Hermione looked very scared. Harry had found that the bathrooms had bathtubs in them, much like the prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts. He took a very long bath on the way back, letting the events of the day sink in.   
Eventually the flight ended though, and Harry climbed out wordlessly to see that they were back at Kings Cross Airport. He walked slowly through the crowds of people there, following Mr. Weasley silently, as did the others. Harry felt empty once more. He had just saved his friends and Mr. Weasley's lives. How had he known, though? The shadowy figure had told him to run, but he hadn't, had he? Then that weird spell had been cast....  
The thought that had been threatening to come but wouldn't finally popped out: Could Voldemort have been behind it? How? Wasn't he in England? He's everywhere, that nagging voice said suddenly. Mr. Weasley extended his hand, and a Portkey was clutched in it. They were in the mens' bathroom this time. Harry heard Mr. Weasley's distant voice count to three, then he touched the Portkey, and everything began to spin.   
His feet slammed down on the ground a moment later, and he dusted himself off as Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George stood slowly.   
"Oh, Arthur!"   
Harry twirled around to see Mrs. Weasley standing in the doorway of the kitchen. With a sharp cry of relief, she ran over to them and hugged them all very tightly.  
"I heard your cottage had been blown up and that you hadn't been found and I got so worried!" she cried very quickly. "I'm so glad you're all safe!"  
And she hugged them again.  
"How did you manage to make it out?" she asked, once more pulling off.  
"Harry...Harry told us all to leave.... So we did," said Mr. Weasley slowly. "Harry saved us...."  
And so Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry very tightly.  
"You all go right to bed and get some sleep!" she commanded.   
Harry nodded and then followed Ron upstairs to Ron's room. Hedwig was perched on the windowsill, hooting at Harry curiously. Harry noticed for the first time how dull the sky was. It had apparently been raining in England as of late.   
"Well," said Ron slowly, "only a week till school starts again."  
  
One week later, Harry stood with his luggage at Kings Cross, in front of the barrier between platforms nine and ten. He was acting as though he was having a conversation with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, when he leaned against the barrier and fell through - the only way to get to the Hogwarts Express, the scarlet steam engine that awaited them on the other side of the barrier they'd just passed through.  
"Well," Harry murmured, "seems like forever since I've seen the Hogwarts Express."  
"I'm going to go get us a compartment," said Hermione.   
"I'll go with you," Ron said absentmindedly, completely unaware that Hermione had blushed when he'd spoken.  
Harry just stared at them as they walked off towards the train with their luggage. Ginny followed them a moment later, leaving Harry to his thoughts. The crowd around him was filled with noise; mostly from the annoyed hoots from the many owls around, but also from the children's parents that were bidding them goodbye. Harry was about to take a step towards the plane when a voice behind him made him start.  
"Will you be all right, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley was standing behind him, her brow furrowed and her eyes full of concern.   
"Yes," he said. "I'm okay. Just a little...well, shaky, I suppose...."  
"Bye, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now go on and find Ron. You watch after him, now. Don't let him get into trouble."  
Harry grinned.  
"Of course," he said. He bid her farewell, then headed for the train. He didn't have to look for Ron, Hermione, and Ginny long; they were in the first compartment he went to it. He was thankful for this; Hedwig had been a lot of trouble earlier today - she seemed very excited or anxious one.   
He climbed into the compartment and took a seat next to Ron. Hermione and Ginny were sitting on the other side; Hermione was reading Standard Spells, Grade Five, and Ginny was staring absentmindedly out the window. Harry took to Ginny's idea; he didn't feel like looking at his studies just this moment. Mrs. Weasley had gone to Diagon Alley and picked up their supplies for them, as they were sleeping mostly, and she didn't want to disturb them. Harry had been given emerald dress robes once more. He suspected another ball was on the way.  
As the train began to move, Mrs. Weasley waved goodbye to them all, then disappeared with the blink of an eye. Harry pressed his nose against the glass until the window fogged over with his breath. He pulled himself back, not knowing what to say to Ron or Hermione, who were both watching his every move, as though they thought he wasn't noticing.  
"So," said Harry slowly, "back to Hogwarts. I kind of missed it, really."  
Ron nodded his agreement but said nothing. Harry twidled his wand through his fingertips, staring out the window at the fast-moving ground. Kings Cross was now all but gone in the distance. Harry turned back to see everyone looking at him, but they quickly turned their attention to something else.   
"Harry..." said Ron slowly, "what did you see in the forest that made you come get us?" He'd said it as though the words were going to catch fire in his mouth. Harry took a deep, sharp breath.  
"I don't know," he said. "Something."  
"What kind of something?" Hermione pressed.  
"Like I said: I don't know."  
"Didn't you get a good look - "  
Harry slammed his fist against the window, nearly shattering the glass.  
"I don't know what I saw," he said through gritted teeth. "It was dark, I was tired, and the figure was shadowy. I don't know. Drop it."  
The tone of finality in his voice didn't seem to satisfy Ron.  
"Why didn't you light your wand?" he asked.  
"D'you think I wanted to die in Switzerland, Ron?" Harry asked, mentally counting to ten. "The thing knew I was there already, but I didn't know if it knew who I was. Anyone with eyes can see this scar." He jerked his bangs up, revealing his lightning bolt scar he'd gotten from the curse Voldemort had used against him.  
This shut Ron up. The next half of their trip to Hogwarts was awkwardly silent; no one seemed to wish to speak. About halfway through, however, the compartment door slid open. Expecting to see the witch that sold food, Harry stood up for a moment, until he saw the figure of his arch-enemy: Draco Malfoy.  
"It's you," Harry snarled. "Thought you'd be content to stay with your pureblood idiots."  
Malfoy's casual frame stiffened for a moment, then he calmly brushed back his silvery blond hair, his gray eyes intent.  
"So," he said, smirking, "heard you nearly got yourself killed, Potter. Pity you didn't, really, so then I wouldn't have to be here right now, I'd be attending a memorial service in honor of Potty, Weasel, and Mudblood."  
Harry sprang from his seat.   
"You say one more word, Malfoy," he hissed icily, "and I'll be in Azkaban when I'm finished with you. You think Muggle borns aren't s'pposed to be here? Hermione could kill you this quick" - he snapped his fingers - "so I wouldn't mess with the Muggle borns, if I were you, which I'm thankfully not."  
Malfoy sneered at Harry.  
"You'll end up like your sorry parents one day - "  
Ron had sprang from his seat and punched Malfoy dead in the nose, while Harry had hexed Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's bodyguards. Ron punched Malfoy again, then threw him out of the compartment; Harry kicked Crabbe and Goyle out roughly.   
"Idiots," Harry snapped. Hermione had her hand over her mouth in shock, as did Ginny. "What? You'd have done the same thing if some idiot was insulting your dead parents!"  
Once more, everyone was shut up by Harry's statement, and they stared at Harry blankly.  
"What?" he snapped again, then sighed. "Sorry, I know I've been tense lately. You'd be tense too if something had spoken to you in the forest."  
"It...it spoke to you?" Ginny asked after a moment of silence.  
"Yes. Very, very scary voice," said Harry, shuddering slightly. "Crazy, maniacal laughter, too. Deeper than Voldemort's cackles always are." Everyone flinched at the name except for Harry. "It was weird...it was like the thing was controlling me...it told me to run, but it took me a while to regain my composure....  
"Anyway," he continued, "I ran to get you all, though I half expected our brooms to blow up or something of that nature. It was scary. Voldemort-level scary. It was just...scary..."  
They were once more silent, and remained silent for the rest of the trip. Harry bought some Chocolate Frogs to snack on, but sooner than he'd hoped they were pulling into the Hogsmeade station and climbing out of the train.   
As they did, Harry saw a giant form among the many first years gathered around.   
"Hey Hagrid!" Harry called happily.  
"Good ter see yeh, Harry," Hagrid called back. "Have a good summer?"  
"As good as one can be with Muggles," Harry answered with a grin. "See you later!"  
Hagrid nodded, then continued calling for first years - they traditionally went to Hogwarts by boat across the lake. Last year there had been a horrible storm while they had gone across, but somehow they'd all made it back in one piece (except for Dennis Creevey, who'd fallen in). Today there was just a soft mist, so they'd be all right.  
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny climbed into the same horse-drawn carriage, and soon they were traveling slowly down the muddy, bumpy bathway to Hogwarts. 


	8. Strange American

Well, I promised someone who emailed me that I'd keep going, and I got so many encouraging reviews that I figured what the hell. So here's the next part, and I promised not to have any more...er...flings like that again. This one's rather long, by the way. Please read, and review if you have the time. Tooieleafs  
  
  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
  
  
Strange American  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The carriages tossed and turned as they wound along the path to the old caslte. Rain had begun to pour from the sky a little harder than before, and the omniscent black clouds that hung low in the sky seemed to engulf the lands that were just barely visble over the Forbidden Forest. Thunder boomed across the sky, and lightning briefly lit it every few moments.  
  
And yet Harry was underturbed by all of these factors. He sat, staring blankly out the window of the carriage, sitting next to Ron. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were chattering merrily about something, but Harry was content on staring outside for the time being. Later he would talk. Now his stomach was rumbling as he realized how hungry he was. Lightning flashed abruptly, hitting something nearby; a loud cracking sound could be heard as the bolt made contact with the land.  
  
Harry felt Ron jump next to him.   
  
"Some storm, eh?" Ron said happily.   
  
"Yeah," Harry answered. "Pity the first years. It was a lot like this last year, wasn't it? Rain only, though. Solid rain, no lightning or thunder. Maybe it has something to do with..." he trailed off, knowing that the others knew exactly what he was talking about.  
  
"Could You-Know-Who's presence change the weather, though?" Hermione asked, frowning.   
  
"Well, you never know," said Ron slowly, "he could be the one making all this happen."  
  
"He's too weak," said Harry, turning to face them slowly. "He just rose from being half-dead for over fourteen years. I doubt he can do much of anything now."  
  
"He can kill," was Ron's simple answer.  
  
Harry felt a twinge of...what was it? It wasn't sadness, was it? Cedric's death hadn't affected him in a sad way...more like in the way Harry thought it was his fault. Cedric had been standing next to him, Harry Potter, and was killed because of it. Harry shook his head slowly.  
  
"We're almost there," he said, carefully changing the subject without making it sudtle.  
  
"Good," said Ron, patting his stomach, "I'm starving. Seems like ages ago we were eating Chocalate Frogs..."  
  
They lapsed into silence. After a moment, the carriage pulled to a complete hault, and Harry jumped out, suddenly eager to get back into the old castle. The only safe place in England at the moment, probably. With Dumbledore nearby, Voldemort would not dare attack the castle. Dumbledore was too powerful.  
  
"Off we go!" Harry said brightly, a bit of a bounce in his step. Hermione caught this and eyed Harry strangely.  
  
"Why're you so happy?" Ginny asked, speaking to Harry for the first time since the train ride.  
  
Harry shrugged.  
  
"I'm safe at Hogwarts," he said. "Voldemort won't attack us here."  
  
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny flinched at the sound of his name.   
  
"C'mon, let's keep going," Harry said impatiently.   
  
Ron, with a pat of his stomach, obliged. Hermione and Ginny gave each other skeptical glances, but followed after the boys slowly. Once in the Entrance Hall, Harry shook himself vigorously in an attempt to get all the water off him. He failed of course, only succeeding in wetting everyone within a two foot radius of him. Ron blinked as he was sprayed with water.  
  
"Sorry, Ron," Harry said, grinning.   
  
They marched on to the Great Hall, and there found a seat at the Gryffindor table next to Fred and George, who were speaking in whispers to Lee Jordan, their friend.  
  
Harry plopped down in his chair, staring at the golden trimmed plate before him. No food was yet on it; they would have to wait out the Sorting of the first years before they could eat.   
  
"Where're they at?" Ron demanded angrily. "I'm starved."  
  
"You've already said that," said Hermione.  
  
"I know! I'm just saying it again!" Ron said.  
  
"Don't tell me you two are going to fight the first day back," said Harry.   
  
Ron and Hermione crossed their arms and turned so that they were back to back. Every so often, they would glare at each other, and it perplexed Harry as to why they were mad at each other in the first place. Hermione had just told Ron that he'd already said he was hungry - what was wrong with that? But Ron must've found something wrong with it, so he sat facing Harry.  
  
"Wonder who our new Quidditch captain will be," said Harry thoughtfully.  
  
"Dunno," Ron responded, looking relieved that Harry was talking normally again.   
  
"And I wonder who'll be Keeper."  
  
"Dunno."  
  
At that moment, the doors of the Great Hall had opened, revealing a very tattered, wet bunch of first years, flanked by Hagrid, looking very displeased that he'd had to take them across the lake in the first place. Professor McGonagall was leading them, and the rain seemed to have had no affect on her hair, which was in a very tight, undisturbed bun.   
  
She walked up to the stage and pulled out a stool which she sat in front of everyone. An old, tattered hat was on top of it, patched and dirty, dust surrounding it like a faint mist. For a moment everyone lapsed into silence, staring at the hat. Then a ringing voice suddenly filled the Great Hall, and the brim of the hat was spread wide.  
  
(A/N: Okay, I'm not a poet, and I refuse to even attempt to write a song for the Sorting Hat to sing. Let's just say it sang its little song, and forget about this little techinical detail. Thanks.)  
  
Professor McGonagall brought a long scroll of parchment out.  
  
"When I call your name, place the hat on your head and sit on the stool," she explained to the nervous looking first years. "Then when it calls out your House, go and sit at the table.  
  
"Avis, Smithy."  
  
"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the hat a moment after a black-haired, grim-faced boy put it on.  
  
"Boone, Janet."  
  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
  
"Brind'mour, David."  
  
When this blond-haired boy walked up to the stage, he looked very apprehensive indeed. It took the Sorting Hat a moment or two before it shouted, rather sullenly, "HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
"Clarily, Urdai."  
  
"What kind of people name their daughter Urdai?" Ron muttered to Harry as the Sorting Hat shouted "SLYTHERIN!" very loudly.  
  
"We're not having much look this year, are we?" Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, muttered crossly.  
  
"No, we're not," Harry replied. "You'd think we'd have at least one Gryffindor by now."  
  
"D'mitt, Kaime."  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
"Joseph, Kirk."  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Harry clapped loudly as a short brown-haired boy walked over to their table and sat on Harry's right side, smiling cheerfully.  
  
"Finally a Gryffindor," Harry muttered, and Nearly-Headless Nick nodded fervently. "How're you, Kirk, was it?"  
  
The boy nodded.  
  
"Fine," he said. "Glad to be in Gryffindor. Nice to meet you..."  
  
"Harry Potter."  
  
Kirk extended his hand, and Harry took it. He had expected the youth to stare at Harry's forehead, but Kirk did nothing of the sort. Instead, he focused his attention on the Sorting.   
  
"McClain, Berverly."  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Harry clapped and cheered once more. Two in a row.  
  
"McKinnon, Robbie."  
  
Harry's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. He'd heard that name somewhere, but where? McKinnon, McKinnon, McKinnon....   
  
The girl whose name had been called walked up to the Sorting Hat and popped it cheerfully on her head. The instance it touched her head, it shouted "GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Three in a row.  
  
After another string of names ("SLYTHERIN" "HUFFLEPUFF" "GRYFFINDOR" "HUFFLEPUFF" and "RAVENCLAW"), McGonagall took the tattered hat from the stool and drew it back from the stage.   
  
For the first time, Harry saw Dumbledore walk out onto the stage. Dumbledore's tall figure looked weary and tired, his silvery beard and hair a bit more ragged than usual. He glanced briefly at the students over his half-moon spectacles, then smiled warmly.  
  
"Before we eat," he said, smile turning to a bit of a smirk as Ron groaned loudly, "I would like to announce that we will have a new course this year, for those of you who wish to be in it: Band. A concert band course may be taken in replacement of one course for those over third year. Those who wish to sign up for band may sign up after the feast. Another note, we are just trying this out, and will discontinue it if anything bad happens. I will introduce our three new teachers afterwards, also.  
  
"Now, eat away."  
  
Everyone clapped, and Harry was more than ready to eat the delicious-looking steak in front of him. It had been a while since he'd had a very decent meal, although Mrs. Weasley was indeed a very good cook. The House-Elves had beat her out this time, however.   
  
After main course, desert appeared. Harry and Ron both devoured their chocolate cake (love those House-Elves thought Harry). Once the food cleared from the plates, Dumbledore stood again.  
  
"First, our new teachers," he said. "Defense Against the Dark Arts will be Dol Tallow." The man Harry recognized as the skiing salesperson stepped forward from his seat behind the other teachers. He waved merrily at everyone, winking at Harry. "Now for our band teachers. First, Professor Trinsinitioff" - a man with brownish hair stepped forward and waved very happily at the students - "and his assistant, Professor Tarifina." A woman with more or less the same color hair as Professor Trinsinitioff stepped forward. She was much more stern-looking than either Tallow or Trinsinitioff, with spectacles much like Professor McGonagall's.   
  
"Now for my little speech," said Dumbledore, smiling a bit. "First off, we will be having two balls this year in replace of the Yule Ball, which we thought was a success - one at Halloween, and one at Christmas. There will also be a Farewell Ball for the seventh years at the end of June.  
  
"We will also be having two Hogsmeade trips, which we will go to by carriage as an extra precaution in light of the past summer's events. You are not to leave the castle unless it is for Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, or with Professors Trinsinitioff or Tarifina for their band classes. Anyone caught in the Forbidden Forest will be immediately given detention for the rest of the year. I do hate being this strict, but it is necessary.  
  
"Now it is time for bed. The prefects will take you to your dormitories."  
  
Dumbledore waved them off, and Hermione immediately took charge in leading the first years along with the others to the Gryffindor tower. As Harry walked from the Great Hall, a hand touched his shoulder calmly.  
  
"Harry, a word if you please," Dumbledore said slowly, looking a bit grim. A few other students were still there, signing up for the band, Harry guessed. They were watching Dumbledore and Harry interestedly.   
  
Harry nodded, ignoring their stares and following Dumbledore's tall figure towards the staff table. They headed for a door Harry had been in once before: Last year when his name had been called from the Goblet of Fire. The Champions' room. Dumbledore opened the door and gestured for Harry to go on in. Harry obliged.  
  
All of the other professors were sitting there as they had been a year before, only now with more there.   
  
Dumbledore gestured for Harry to sit down in a chair near Trinsinitioff and Tarifina, who both smiled at him.  
  
"Harry..." Dumbledore began. "There has been a death."  
  
Harry felt his insides squirm a little bit, but remained calm.  
  
"Who?" he asked slowly.  
  
"Johnston. Dot Johnston," said Dumbledore slowly, pacing in front of Harry. "A Muggle woman. You've probably heard this already...?" Harry nodded. "But I doubt you realized the importance. Dot was a very big gossip in her day, which leads me to think that she knew something."   
  
Harry sat for a moment in silence as Dumbledore's blue eyes stared into his green.  
  
"D'you think Voldemort was behind it?" he asked finally.  
  
"Yes. It has to be Voldemort. No one could have murdered a Muggle like that, leaving no visible signs of murder. I myself do not know how the murder was commited. The Basilisk Voldemort used to murder most of his victims is dead thanks to your efforts. I don't know...how he did it, but he did."  
  
Dumbledore paused a moment, looking thoughtfully at Harry.  
  
"This does not, in fact, concern you for the most part, except that be careful," said Dumbledore seriously. "Do not leave sight of your friends. I will be attending your Quidditch practice, which we're going to start early this year. Be careful."  
  
Harry nodded solemnly.  
  
"Go on to your dorm, unless you wish to sign up for band. The password is Filepina."  
  
Harry nodded again, then left the room, wondering why Dumbledore had told him of the death of a Muggle woman. 


	9. A Kirk-y Input

This chapter is more or less dedicated to Kirk Joseph, who is modeled after one of my close friends whose name is Kirk. Next chapter'll have more of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, I promise, but first I wanted to put in a little background about Kirk. It's not really essential to the story, but go on and read it. I think you'll like it. The next part'll pick up at the same time this one does, by the way, so these things are happening at the same time. I'll try and get it out soon after this one. And this one's reeeeeeeal short, so bare with me.  
  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
  
A Kirk-y Input  
  
  
  
  
  
Kirk Joseph sat on his bed later that night, pulling out a small laptop that he lay before him. The only other occupant of the Gryffindor boys' first year dorm stared at him in interest.  
  
"I thought that kind of stuff doesn't work around here," he said slowly.  
  
"It doesn't," Kirk shrugged. "I wired it with magic before I came over here with the help of my dad." He flipped on a switch, and a small humming noise began to echo throughout the dorm. The other boy walked over to Kirk's bed and peered at the computer with interest.  
  
"Wow. I've never seen one of those," said the boy.   
  
"My dad's a Muggle, so he has bunches of these things," Kirk explained.   
  
"Light's out!" a voice stern voice said from the entrance. A girl with bushy brown hair stood there, glaring at the four-poster Kirk and the other boy occupied. Kirk immediately snapped his laptop closed and the other boy scrambled for his bed. The girl took a few steps forward and peeked into Kirk's now dark four-poster. Kirk was lying down underneath the covers by now with his pajamas on and eyes closed, so the girl moved on. Kirk sighed softly in relief before falling into a deep sleep.  
  
  
The sunlight shined brightly across the lake at Hogwarts, and a gentle breeze was now blowing, signaling that the storm's rage had now ended, and all would be clear for today at least. Kirk yawned and stretched, hearing a few bones pop as he did so. He jumped out of bed and pulled a black robe out of his trunk. How boring, he though sullenly. Orange was a much brighter color than black...but detention the first day wouldn't look good...  
  
He thought a moment more, then pulled on his black robes; he'd save the orange Quidditch robes for Quidditch. Getting on the house team wouldn't be hard once he tried out. They'd have to get a new Keeper before the first game, which was only in one month. Yes, he could be a Keeper very easily.   
  
Kirk's stomach rumbled, so he headed down for breakfast, leaving his roommate's sleeping form behind. He bounded down the stairs, careful not to hit any steps that looked suspicious. He found the Great Hall again rather easily, and headed for a seat at the Gryffindor table next to that black-haired kid he'd met yesterday. Harry Potter, was it? The name sounded somewhat familiar.  
  
He plopped down at his seat and began eating his bacon and eggs soundlessly. So...balls, dancing. He'd always hated the dances in America. 'Socials,' they'd called them. There wasn't much sense in having a date, because once you were out there everyone kind of disappeared, and the schools wouldn't play slow songs for fifth graders. He'd danced with some girl in America to a slow song before, of course - it wasn't half bad, but at the age of eleven, he wasn't ready for any relationships just yet.  
  
As he finished up his eggs, the windows burst open and hundreds of owls flew in. Kirk started, and many other first years screamed. To his surprise, an owl dropped a piece of parchment down in front of him. He opened it. Oh. Schedules. Right. Kirk scanned down the page. Potions with Ravenclaws...Charms with Slytherins, then the afternoon was one class only: band. Wonder what instrument I'll play....  
  
"Hey, Kirk!"   
  
Kirk lifted his eyes from his schedule to see Harry Potter looking at him.  
  
"Mornin' Harry," Kirk said cheerfully.  
  
"You're American, aren't you?" Harry asked, grinning.   
  
"Yep. Canadian, really. But hey, England's not half bad. 'Cept there's no hockey."  
  
"Hockey? Like ice hockey?"  
  
"Yeah. Dad's a goalie for the Toronto Maple Leafs. He's real good."  
  
"D'you play Quidditch?"  
  
"Best Keeper in my league."  
  
"Hey, we need a Keeper this year," said Harry, a new interest showing in his eyes.   
  
Kirk shrugged casually.   
  
"First years can't try out for the team," he said gloomily, suddenly remembering that simple detail.   
  
Harry seemed to realize this as well, so they lapsed into silence. Kirk finished his breakfast, then picked up his schedule. Potions. Ravenclaw. Well, at least it's not Slytherin, he thought, his spirits lifting slightly. He took a sip of pumpkin juice, then darted off to get his books and head for the dungeons where Potions class was held.  
  
After stopping by the Gryffindor tower, Kirk was off to the Slytherin dungeons. It grew a tad colder as he walked down the steps towards a room labled "Potions." On the door were numerous carved writings. One that caught Kirk's eye said "Gryffindors beware." Kirk gulped and headed through the door. Most of his classmates were already in the class, chatting merrily to each other. Kirk took a seat next to a brown haired girl, waiting for the bell to ring.  
  
"What's your name?" the girl asked him.   
  
"Kirk Joseph. You?" Kirk responded.   
  
"Robbie McKinnon."  
  
"Nice to meet yeh," Kirk said, extending his hand. Robbie took it slowly, eyeing Kirk strangely.  
  
"Your accent..." she said slowly, "American, are you?"  
  
"Technically. Actually, I'm from Canada, but America rubbed off on me," said Kirk, grinning. "Canada's a lot nicer than this place - I love the mountains. And the snow and ice. It's so much...cooler. It's hot here."  
  
Robbie smiled at him as a bell sounded throughout the halls, echoing creepily. At the moment the bell had rang, a greasy haired man with a long, bent nose walked through the door, glaring at them all. Kirk took this as a bad sign; they hadn't even done anything, and the man was glaring at them.  
  
"My name is Professor Snape," the man snapped angrily. "When I call your name, say here."  
  
He proceeded to call a list of names. Kirk's name was called after a moment, and Kirk responded with a mere "Present" which seemed to anger the Potions master even more.  
  
"I said say here!" Snape snapped. "Not present."  
  
"Do forgive me," Kirk said, trying his best to hide his sarcasm.  
  
"Detention. Tomorrow night. Here."  
  
Well, Kirk thought, I'd have been better off wearing the robes. 


	10. The New Captain...er...Captains

  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
  
The New Captain...er...Captains  
  
  
  
  
Harry pulled on a pair of Dudley's old pajamas, wondering why he never bought himself new ones. He really needed to do that sometime - Dudley's were too wide and short, and his robes would be wrinkled badly by morning if he slept in them. So he had to put up with Dudley's for now. When they went to Hogsmead, he'd look into buying a new set.  
  
He stretched, then laid down on his bed, pulling the covers up over him.   
  
"Night, Ron," said Harry, "night, Seamus, night Dean."  
  
There were a chorus of good nights from his dormmates, then Harry took off his glasses and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would not evade him.  
  
  
Lily Evans was crying. She was in her dorm alone, and she was sobbing, crying hysterically. Her hands were covering her face, and her knees were tucked into her body. So she cried. After a moment her sobbing slowed a bit, and she lay down on her bed, staring at the ceiling.  
  
"Lily?"  
  
Lily jumped, wiping her tear-stained face dry. She didn't open the curtains of her four-poster.  
  
"I know you're in here," said the same voice. Lily recognized it easily: James Potter. Who else would come into a girls' dorm in search of her? No one. Therefore, it was James.  
  
"How?" she muttered crossly.  
  
A figure appeared on the other side of her curtain, scratching its head.  
  
"How what?" it asked.  
  
"How d'you know I'm in here?" Lily asked.  
  
"Well, darling, you just spoke to me," said the figure laughingly. "Therefore you're here."  
  
"How can you be so sure?" Lily pressed.  
  
"Oh come off it, Lil," said the figure, opening the four-poster's curtains. James appeared there, his black hair flying everywhere. He sat down next to her. "What's wrong?"  
  
"What d'you think?" Lily muttered, turning on her side so that her back was facing him. Then she reconsidered this move, and lay on her back again.  
  
"I don't know," said James.   
  
"He...he killed them..." Lily said, tears once more rolling down her face.   
  
"Voldemort?"  
  
Lily nodded.   
  
"Killed who?"  
  
Lily didn't answer, she just turned to her pillow and sobbed. Harry's dream broke off abruptly, but once more he did not wake.  
  
  
Harry yawned as he woke up the next morning, reaching for his glasses. Everything became clear as he slid them on, and he stretched his back for a moment.   
  
"OW!" he yelped, felling a crick in his back. Ron stirred in the bed next to his.  
  
"Wha's wrong, 'Arry?" Ron muttered sleepily.  
  
"Nothing, Ron," said Harry, shaking his head. "I'm going down to breakfast. Want to come?"  
  
"Sure," said Ron after a moment. "Gimme a moment to wake up, though."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Harry walked slowly around the room, stretching his legs now. Ron was grumbling under his breath and Harry heard lots of bumps and yelps coming from the four-poster. Harry couldn't help but laugh as Ron tried to walk out of the four-poster and slam his head into the top.   
  
"Ouch." Ron rubbed his forehead vigorously.  
  
"C'mon, I'm hungry," said Harry, grinning.  
  
Ron nodded, and they started down the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room, and then on down to the Great Hall. Ron bumped into numerous things on their way; Harry suspected he wasn't much of a six a.m.-in-the-morning person. When they finally reached the Great Hall, hardly anyone was there.  
  
Ron instantly headed for the seat next to Hermione, and Harry followed, sighing inwardly as he realized what he'd been trying not to realize for the past year: Ron liked Hermione. Of course. How could Harry have not noticed it? All the times they fought wasn't because they hated each other; it was quite the contrary. They liked each other.   
  
Harry shrugged his thoughts aside and sat down next to Ron. He ate his bacon and eggs slowly, savoring the moment before classes began. As he took a sip of pumpkin juice, the first year from last night sat down next to him. At that moment, hundreds of owls burst into the Great Hall, and Kirk jumped next to him; some other first years even screamed. Harry tried his best not to laugh.  
  
Hedwig landed in front of Harry, carrying two pieces of parchment: His schedule and a letter from Sirius, most likely. First Harry opened his schedule; Sirius would have to wait until he got to a private place with Ron and Hermione. He scanned over his schedule carefully. First Charms with Hufflepuff, then Double Potions with...Slytherins, again. And in the afternoon, Care of Magical Creatures.   
  
Harry turned to Kirk. Kirk was reading his schedule as well.  
  
"Hey, Kirk," said Harry grinning over at the first year. Kirk returned the grin.  
  
"Mornin' Harry," Kirk responded cheerfully.  
  
"You're American, aren't you?" Harry asked, noticing Kirk's accent.  
  
"Yep. Canadian, really. But hey, England's not half bad. 'Cept there's no hockey."  
  
"Hockey? Like ice hockey?"  
  
"Yeah. Dad's a goalie for the Toronto Maple Leafs. He's real good."  
  
"D'you play Quidditch?"  
  
"Best Keeper in my league."  
  
"Hey, we need a Keeper this year," said Harry slowly.   
  
Kirk shrugged.  
  
"First years can't try out for the team," he said gloomily.  
  
Harry realized this, and kept silent. Kirk left a moment later, so Harry turned to Ron and Hermione.   
  
"I can't believe they're putting us with the Slytherins again," Ron complained loudly. The Slytherins glared at him from across the room. Ron glared right back.  
  
"Same here," Harry muttered.   
  
"C'mon guys, we've got Charms in ten minutes," said Hermione briskly. She stood up and walked towards the exit of the Great Hall, Harry and Ron trailing after.  
  
  
The next few weeks were filled with all kinds of strange sounds and squeaks. The band had been assigned their instruments, and it wasn't pretty. None of them had learned anything about music - it was all noise. Hermione said that she had thought of signing up, but backed out. Harry was thinking of it now, but wasn't sure he could take all those...sounds he was hearing.  
  
The professors seemed ready to give them as much homework as possible. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was usually a very humble teacher. But he had assigned them a five foot report on Song Charms, which wasn't too hard for Harry, as he'd already read a lot about them over the summer. Professor Snape had, of course, loaded the Gryffindors with studying about Powerful Sleeping Potions, which they'd be making in two weeks. McGonagall wasn't as livid as the others, but she gace them a two foot report on the importance of knowing how to change a penguin into a cat. Professor Sprout, the herbology teacher, hadn't given them anything for a change, and Hagrid had only told them to read up on Magical Sugar Gliders, a rare type of squirrel that they'd be taking care of for the first semester.   
  
All in all, their first weekend off was welcomed by Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Ginny's class had been assigned a lot of lessons as well, so they were often in the library studying or doing homework where they were undisturbed.   
  
By Sunday, with Hermione's help they'd completed their homework. Harry chose to take his free time to advantage; he sat down in the common room, pulled out some earplugs, and fell asleep.   
  
A loud blast from a bronze trumpet woke him up with a start. He jumped up to see Kirk standing there, hiding a trumpet behind his back and looking innocent.   
  
"Kirk," said Harry sleepily, "don't do that. Please."  
  
Kirk grinned broadly.   
  
"D'yeh like my trumpet?" he asked happily. He pulled the trumpet out from behind his back and showed it to Harry.   
  
"Can you play anything on it?" Harry asked. "Something not so...loud?"  
  
Kirk shrugged.  
  
"Not really," he said. "All we play right now is stuff like Mary Had a Little Lamb. Later we'll get better."   
  
Harry laid back down on the couch.  
  
"Where're your friends, Harry?" Kirk asked, glancing around. Harry glanced around too. Only Ginny was in the common room, lying on the sofa across from him asleep.  
  
"Knowing them, out fighting," said Harry.   
  
"They fight a lot, I take it?"  
  
"Yes. A whole lot."  
  
Kirk shrugged.   
  
"Well, I think I'll go torment the Slytherins with my newfound skills," he said, grinning evilly. "See yeh later Harry!"  
  
He bounded off, trumpet clutched in his hand. Harry shuddered, almost feeling sorry for those poor Slytherins.  
  
Almost.  
  
  
Harry finally decided to sign up for band, and Ron went with him. Hermione couldn't bare pushing any of her extra subjects out of the way, so she refused to sign up. Harry and Ron were going to drop Divination, so they were both eager to begin band. Harry had began thinking of what instrument he was going to play, but the thought was brushed aside the next morning when Fred and George bounded happily into the Great Hall at lunch.  
  
"Guess what, Harry!" Fred said happily.  
  
"We've been named captains!" George said.   
  
"Er - co-captains, that is," said Fred, grinning broadly.   
  
"That's great, guys," said Harry, grinning back. "When does practice start?"  
  
"Tonight," said George.   
  
"First game's in three weeks against Hufflepuff," said Fred.  
  
"Already?" Harry asked incrediously. "Wow. Dumbledore must've meant it when he said we'd be starting the season early."  
  
"Apparently," said George.   
  
"Meet us on the Quidditch pitch tonight at seven," said Fred.   
  
"And we got the team new robes," said George, grinning evilly.   
  
Before Harry could ask what he meant by that, they had bounced off to tell the rest of the team. Harry grinned at their retreating figures. This was going to be a good year.  



	11. Band Session

  
  
Chapter Eleven  
  
  
  
Band Session  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry and Ron finished up their lunch to head for band, which was held outside until winter began. They'd heard band was a load of fun, but getting out of Divination had been the main temptation on Harry's part; Harry guessed it had been on Ron's part, too.  
  
The sky was bright and sunny again today, without a cloud in sight. A gentle breeze was blowing once more, ruffling Harry's hair among the leaves of trees and such. Harry and Ron walked down towards the lake, where they could see about twenty chairs set up in an arch-like pattern around a podium. Stands were in front of the chairs, lowered and flipped backwards.   
  
A few students were already there; it appeared that this class was fifth years only, however. Harry recognized Lavender Brown sitting in the first row with a small slender case in her hand, and Dean Thomas was sitting a few rows back with a larger case. And of course, just because Harry's life wasn't miserable enough as it was, Draco Malfoy was walking down from the castle to Harry's right. Harry groaned.   
  
A bell echoed in the distance, and Professor Trinsinitioff gestured for them to take a seat. Professor Tarifina was standing a few feet behind the podium, while the other professor sat on a stool on the podium. Once everyone was sitting, the professor cleared his throat.  
  
"Well, we've got a few new students today, don't we?" he said, looking at something on a stand before him. "I'm gonna call roll now, so listen up. Brown, Lavender."  
  
"Here," said Lavender.  
  
"Malfoy, Draco?"  
  
"Here," drawled Malfoy, somehow making the simple word "here" very long and boring.  
  
"Potter, Harry?"  
  
"Here," said Harry. He'd had to speak a little louder because he and Ron had sat in the back, far away from Malfoy.  
  
"Thomas, Dean?"  
  
"Here."  
  
"And Weasley, Ronald?"  
  
"Here," said Ron.   
  
"Well, good," said Professor Trinsinitioff. "I didn't think we'd have much of a band here, but we've actually got quite a few first years and now five fifth years. My name's Professor Trinsinitioff, but you can call my Professor Trins for short, 'cause I know how hard my name is to pronounce. Okay, for the new kids, here's a little about me. Tari'll go in a minute.   
  
"I'm from America. I worked with our Marine Drum Core and Marching Band. I also taught at a small high school in Tennessee. I was inspired to be a band director by my old band director, Robert Wills. He was a good director, and I hope you'll think the same of me. I'll work with the marching band in general, but my lovely assistant will work with our Drum Core. That's the brass players and percussionists. On to Tari."  
  
The stern looking woman stepped forward and tried to push Trins off his stool, but he relented, grinning playfully at her. She glared at him and stepped in front of him.  
  
"My name is Professor Tarifina, but, as you may have noticed, you can call me Professor Tari. As my annoying assistant said" - Trins poked his head out from behind her and grinned at them - "I will work with the Drum Core. I played percussion in junior high through college, and majored in music.   
  
"We will also have a Woodwind Ensemble from six o'clock to seven o'clock in the morning. Only woodwind players are allowed. Woodwind instruments include the flute, which Professor Trins played throughout junior high, high school, and college; the clarinet, an instrument played to the front using a single reed; the alto, tenor, and baritone saxaphones, all single reed instruments that most of you are probably familiar with; the oboe, a double reed instrument that is used mainly for Irish songs; and the bassoon, a large double reed instrument that is very deep in range. There is also the alto and bass flutes, tenor and bass clarinets."  
  
"And I'll cover the brass instruments," said Trins, and Tari stepped behind him once more. "First there's the trumpet. Played forward, three valves. Most brass instruments are three valved, with the exception of one. Trumpets include the cornet, Bb trumpet, a Bb piccolo trumpet. I always liked the piccolo trumpet, and I'll play one for you in a moment. Another brass instrument is the trombone. It's a slide instrument; instead of valves, there's a slide that you move to change notes. There are two trombones: the bass and C trombone. Then there's the horn, once called the French horn. The horn is a middle-range, three valve instrument with a melodic sound. Horns are keyed in F.   
  
"Then there's the tuba and baritone. Marching tubas are called sousaphones. Baritonists can march themselves, though. Tubas are the lowest member of a band. Tubas are C keyed, and so are baritones. Any questions?"  
  
Harry didn't understand what he meant by "keyed in C" but kept quiet anyway. Lavender Brown raised her hand.   
  
"Yes, Lavender?" Trins said, gesturing to Lavender.   
  
"What do you mean by 'keyed in C' or 'keyed in F'?" Lavender asked, frowning.  
  
"Okay, keyed in C means if I tell a flutist to play C concert, they play their C. For Bb, if I tell a Clarinetist to play C, they play Db. And there are a few instruments keyed in Eb; the saxes are the main ones. You'll learn more later. Now we've gotta get you assigned to instruments."  
  
Lavender and Dean already had their instruments; Lavender's was a silvery flute, and Dean's was a trumpet like Kirk's had been. Both were very shiny. Harry wondered what Trins would put him on.  
  
"Boys line up in front of me and girls..." said Trins, then he frowned. "There aren't any new girls are there? Well, Harry, Ron, over here, and Draco go to Tari."  
  
Harry got up from his seat with Ron and they walked over to where Trins was sitting.   
  
"Well, any ideas on what you'd like to play, boys?" Trins asked.  
  
"How about...trumpet," said Ron.   
  
"You, Harry?"  
  
"I think I'll try the trumpet, too," said Harry.   
  
"Okay, here's a trumpet mouthpiece," said Trins. "Trumpeteers make sounds by buzzing into one of these. Pucker your lips like you're kissing - that's it - and do this." He made a 'buzzing' sound into his silver mouthpiece. A very odd noise came out of it.  
  
Harry and Ron tried. Harry managed to make a sort of strangled sound into his, while Ron couldn't make a sound at all. Harry kept trying, and finally his sounded halfway decent for a mouthpiece only.   
  
"Ron, we'll try you on a flute, then a clarinet, then an oboe if those fail," said Trins. "Oh don't worry, Ron, you'll be good with one of those," he added, seeing Ron's look. "Harry - you have the potential of a good trumpet player, which is a rare thing indeed, a good trumpet player. It's cheap, too, a trumpet. Cheap to rent. A Galleon from now till Christmas, then a Galleon from then till the end of the year. Or you can pay in advance, if you want."  
  
Harry agreed to pay on Christmas day, so he could see if he'd like the trumpet or not. He could definately afford two Galleons a year if it meant no Divination. He agreed to try the trumpet. Ron ended up on clarinet, which was only half a Galleon a year. Ron agreed.   
  
Much to Harry's and Ron's pleasure, Malfoy ended up on the flute, the instrument he'd swore never to touch. Flutes were also usually considered girl instruments as well, so Harry and Ron had it in for Malfoy. (A/N: I do not mean to offend any male flutists our there; I'm one myself, and I love the flute. It's not a girlie instrument, just idiots think that for the most part. But hey, Draco IS an idiot. Thanks)  
  
"All right," said Tari, "assemble your instruments. If you need help, call on myself or Professor Trins."  
  
Harry sat next to Dean, so Dean helped him assemble his trumpet. It turned out to be a rather easy task; all he had to do was pop a mouthpiece into the bronze-like body of the trumpet.   
  
"Let me hear a Bb concert in unison," said Trins, now standing up and raising his hands before him. "Flutes here's your fingering." He put each of his pointer fingers on his thumb. "Clarinets, it's a C." He put his first three fingers down on his left hand. "And trumpets, it's also a C." (A/N: If there are any trumpet players out there, please email me with a few fingerings for trumpet, 'cause I have no clue what they are). "When my hand levels out, blow into your instrument."  
  
He brought his right hand up once more, and then brought it down. Harry buzzed into the mouthpiece, and a strangled sort of noise came out. It grew more powerful as he buzzed harder, until it finally sounded pretty decent. Trins made a cutoff sign, and Harry stopped. A few people kept playing, but finally stopped.  
  
"Okay, flutes alone," said Trins. Malfoy wasn't very good, it appeared, as Lavender's flute was the only flute that made any sound. Lavender, however, made a nice, soft sound on her flute.  
  
Chuckling softly, Trins cut them off.  
  
"Clarinet," he said. Ron sounded very good on the clarinet to Harry. The sound was rather low but melodic. Trins cut Ron off. "And trumpeteers." Harry and Dean played their trumpets rather loudly until Trins cut them off. "Very good all of you. Now - " He was cut off by the bell ringing in the distance. "Practice. That's all I ask. And don't hurt anyone's ears. Practice OUTSIDE! Have a nice day!"  
  
Harry packed his trumpet into its black case, then headed off towards Hogwarts with Ron.  
  
"So, you like the clarinet?" Harry asked Ron as they walked back up the pathway. Ron nodded.  
  
"It's an interesting instrument," he said. "I've heard bands play before, but all of them sound a lot..."  
  
"Better?" Harry offered.  
  
"Yes, better than ours," said Ron, nodding once more.   
  
"Well," said Harry slowly as they ascended the steps to the Entrance Hall, "we can't be perfect yet. It was only our first day."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The rest of the way to Gryffindor tower they walked in silence, until Hermione greeted them at the portrait of the Fat Lady.   
  
"Did you like band?" she asked.   
  
"Yeah," said Ron, and Harry watched in disgust as he stared at her until he blushed and looked away.   
  
"What instruments are you going to play?" Hermione asked, her eyes drifting to their cases.  
  
"Trumpet," said Harry, grinning.  
  
"Clari...clarin...clarinet," Ron spluttered as Hermione smiled warmly at him.   
  
Harry grinned in spite of himself.   
  
"C'mon, you two lovers, let's go on into the common room," he said, grin broadening as they both blushed and glared at him. "Quidditch practice starts tonight. I want to be rested for it."  
  
He walked into the common room, Ron and Hermione behind him, and plopped down on the couch in front of the fire. He was drifting in and out of consciouness when a voice woke him.  
  
"C'mon, Harry, time for practice."  
  
It was Fred.  
  
"George is already down on the field," said Fred, grabbing Harry's arm and jerking him upward. Harry followed, rubbing his eyes until he was wide awake once more.   
  
"I've got to get my - "  
  
"Your Firebolt's already down here; we sent all the brooms down there by spell if they weren't already," Fred said. "George and me can't wait to give you your new robes. We got Ron some new dress robes, too. But the Quidditch robes were our favorite."  
  
"What color are they?" Harry asked as they neared the Quidditch pitch.  
  
"You'll see."  
  
They finally reached the pitch. The rest of the team was already there, a few flying around. Fred called everyone down, and they landed softly in front of Harry, Fred, and George.  
  
"All right," said Fred, "before we begin practice, we've got to have a chat first."  
  
"We need a Keeper," said George. "So start spreading the word to our fellow Gryffindors. If anyone, ANYone, can fly good or has any experience as a Keeper, tell the to try out."  
  
"Hey," said Harry suddenly, "one of the first years said he was a Keeper. Kirk Joseph."  
  
"If we could convince McGonagall to bend the rules a bit..." said Fred thoughtfully.   
  
"Tell him to come here on Friday and try out," said George. "We'll do what we can with McGonagall if he's good."  
  
Harry nodded.   
  
"All right, let's start practice!" said Fred and George in unison.  
  
  
Four hours later, Harry was flying around in the air, taking his mind off things.  
  
"Sure you don't want to come with us, Harry?" Fred asked again. He'd asked the same question for the last five minutes, and Harry had answered the same way.  
  
"No," Harry repeated. "I just want to fly around a little more."  
  
"Suit yourself," said George.   
  
They walked on up to the castle. Harry did a few loop-the-loops to clear his mind, then took to flying in large circles around the pitch. As he neared the Forbidden Forest once, he heard a stick snap. He abruptly stopped his broomstick and turned slowly to face the forest.   
  
Another stick snapped. Someone was walking.  
  
Harry landed his broom with a dull thud, then got off and glanced around. The sun had gone down, and the flickering lights of candles had now spluttered out, only a few lights from Hogwarts making shadows across the pitch. Another stick snapped, and this time the sound echoed across the grounds eerily. Harry felt around for his wand, then realized he'd left it in his Hogwarts robes, which he'd laid in the stands for safekeeping. He was wearing Fred and George's team robes; scarlet with a Gryffindor lion sewn on.   
  
Harry thought for a moment, then turned back around and went to grab his wand. He had just reached the stands when a dull thud sounded from behind him. He whirled around.  
  
The figure he'd seen in the woods was standing before him. The figure was cowled with black, and shadows were now covering the entire field; Harry looked up at Hogwarts to see all the lights had spluttered off. Harry turned back around to see the figure taking a few steps forward. Harry scrambled for his wand.   
  
The figure let him do grab his wand without interference. Harry took it out and pointed it at the figure.  
  
To his surprise, a low laugh filled the pitch. The figure simply stood there, not moving, just laughing. Then, just to shock him even more, a loud scream came from behind him: "SHIT!"  
  
He whirled around once more. Professor Trins was standing right there, wand outstretched.  
  
"INFERNOBOLUS!" he shouted. Harry jumped out of the way as a ribbon of blue fire whipped from Trins's wand and towards him. It missed Harry and hit the ground near him. Smoke flew up everywhere, and Harry waved his arms around, trying to clear it. When it did clear, the figure was gone, but Trins stood there, which reminded Harry of something: wasn't Dumbledore supposed to be watching his practices.  
  
"Harry, are you okay?" Trins asked as he walked briskly over to Harry.   
  
"Yeah," said Harry. "What...what was that?"  
  
"Not sure," said Trins. "I think...I think it was an..."  
  
"Harry? Are you there?" Dumbledore's concerned voice drifted through the hazy grounds. He suddenly began to slowly appear next to them, appearing as though he'd been wearing an Invisibility Cloak.  
  
"Yes," said Harry. "What was that spell?"  
  
"Invisibility Charm," said Dumbledore. "I've been here for the past four hours, watching practice. I had walked off because I thought you were going in with the others. Obviously you didn't.... Murry, what was it?"  
  
Professor Trins glanced around uneasily.  
  
"Not in front of the boy, Albus," he said softly. "I can only say what I think it was, nothing more. The idea is...well it's proposterous, really...they couldn't be back...could they?"  
  
"Harry, straight up to bed," said Dumbledore sternly. "As soon as Samantha arrives, she will escort you up to Gryffindor tower. Stay there. Do not go anywhere else. Murry, come with me. We need to investigate the forest carefully. We'll wait with you, Harry, until Samantha arrives."  
  
Harry nodded. An attack the second week into school.... The same figure from the mountains.... Odd.  
  
Professor Tari ran up to the pitch a moment later, panting.   
  
"Murry said to come..." she said breathlessly.  
  
"Please escort Harry to the Gryffindor tower, Samantha," said Dumbledore. "Then contact Severus and the other teachers. Thank you."  
  
Tari nodded, then turned to walk away, beckoning for Harry to follow. Harry grabbed his school robes and broomstick, then followed after her.  
  
"Are you all right, Harry?" she asked without glancing back at him.   
  
"Yes," said Harry.   
  
"What was it?" she asked, leading him up the steps to the Entrance Hall.   
  
"I don't know..." he said softly. He hesitated for a moment, then added in a rush, "but I saw it before in the summer in the Swiss Alps."  
  
Tari stopped dead in her tracks.   
  
"The Alps?" she repeated. "You're sure of it?"  
  
"Yes," said Harry.  
  
"How sure?" Tari pressed.  
  
"Very."  
  
"Oh God," said Tari, clapping a hand to her head, then realizing what she was doing and continued leading Harry onward. "I'll have to tell Albus about this. This could be...this could be bad..."  
  
Harry thought of pressing further, but decided against it. Instead he walked silently along after her until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.   
  
"Don't leave the castle unless a teacher is with you, Mr. Potter," said Tari. "Filepina," she said to the Fat Lady, who swung open. "Be careful. And actually, if you need to practice your instrument, just bring Murry along with you, and tell him to bring his trumpet. No one - or thing - in its right mind will come near you." 


	12. Tryouts

First, I'm sorry it took me soooooooooooo long to finish this. I've got a sinus infection--lots of coughing and a stuffy nose. I promise to get part thirteen up as quick as I can, but it may take a few days! Bare with me!  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
  
  
Tryouts  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry, oddly enough, slept very soundly and peacefully that night, untroubled by dreams, nightmares, or fears. He woke the next morning feeling rested and relaxed for a change, ready to start a new day.   
  
Harry glanced at his watch (which he'd repaired over the summer while he was bored) to discover it was only five thirty in the morning. He thought of going back to bed, then shrugged to himself. He was hungry anyway. He did, however, decide against waking Ron; the last thing Ron needed was a few more concusions. Dumbledore would probably address the entire school once they were at breakfast anyway.  
  
Harry pulled on his black robes, then put his hat on. He dusted himself off, then hurried on down to breakfast. Only a few students were there, and those few looked extraordinarily sleepy. Harry took a seat next to Hermione. He hadn't been able to tell Ron and she about last night, as it was nearly ten o'clock when he got in, and they'd both been asleep.   
  
"Morning, Hermione," said Harry, taking a few sips of pumpkin juice.   
  
"Good morning, Harry," said Hermione cheerfully. "Sleep good last night?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said through his bacon. The House-Elves seemed to serve bacon a lot lately, he thought suddenly. "You?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione responded after swallowing. "Well enough. I had some Arithmancy to do, though, so I stayed up late in my dorm studying. How was practice?"  
  
"Good, good," said Harry as he swallowed a piece of his egg. "It was after practice that got me."  
  
"What d'you mean?" Hermione peered at Harry curiously.  
  
"Wait till Ron comes," Harry said, "he'll want to hear too." Then it suddenly struck him that he hadn't read his letter from Sirius. "And Snuffles sent me an owl sometime last week. I forgot about it."  
  
"What'd he say?" Hermione whispered after a furtive glance around. They were the only occupants of the Gryffindor table.  
  
"Dunno. Haven't read it yet," Harry said. Hermione goggled at him.   
  
"You got the letter a week ago," she muttered slowly, "and you haven't read it yet?"  
  
"A lot's been happening, Hermi."  
  
They lapsed into silence. After Harry finished breakfast, he decided just to sit at the table for a while; he didn't feel like going back to the Gryffindor tower for his books just yet. He laid his head on his crossed arms and closed his eyes, thinking.  
  
"Students, please report to the Great Hall now," boomed Professor McGonagall's voice throughout the halls. Harry's head snapped up. "Thank you."  
  
Harry noticed Dumbledore walk to his seat at the staff table, once more looking weary. Professors Snape and McGonagall walked in a moment later, also looking rather tired. The rest of the table was already occupied by the other teachers. A few of them looked ragged; Professors Tallow and Trins were the only two who looked remotely rested.   
  
Soon, students began to file into the Great Hall, rubbing their eyes sleepily. Ron appeared a moment later, yawning as he sat down in between Harry and Hermione.  
  
"Wha's all 'is abou'?" he muttered as he yawned again. His red hair was dishelved, and his robes were crinkled.   
  
"We'll soon find out, won't we?" Hermione said, half angrily.   
  
"Wha's wrong with you, 'Ermi?" Ron said, trying to snap at her but failing miserably.  
  
There was the use of the name, "'Ermi" again, Harry thought.   
  
"Nothing - " Hermione started to say, but Dumbledore stepped up at that moment, offering a smile to his students.  
  
"Good morning, everyone," he said with a half sigh. "Our security has just been tightened. We're placing an invisible wall around the Quidditch pitch, a gaurd against all spells. The first two Quidditch games, Ravenclaw versus Slytherin and Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, will be next week, and there will not be another game until winter. You are not to leave the castle unless accompanied by a professor. Anyone caught is subject to detention for quite a while.   
  
"As I've said before, I hate taking these precautions" - he took a deep breath - "but they are necessary. Someone entered the grounds last night and attempted to attack one of our students. We did not find anyone, nor was anyone injured, but we must be cautious from now on. Remember, the Halloween Ball is five weeks from now."  
  
Dumbledore slowly walked back to his chair and continued eating breakfast as though nothing had happened. Though he'd mentioned no names, everyone was staring pointedly at Harry, including Ron and Hermione. Harry shrugged, then headed back to the Gryffindor tower to get his Defense Against the Dark Arts books.  
  
As Harry reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, a voice startled him.  
  
"So, Potter, heard you almost got killed last night." It was Malfoy. "Pity you didn't. Then all these extra precautions wouldn't be in effect."  
  
"Yeah they would, and you know it," Harry said, keeping his cool as he mentally counted to ten. "If whatever it was out there had killed me, the precautions would be ten times worse. Think before you speak."  
  
Malfoy stared at Harry as though he were growing two heads. Harry was about to tell Malfoy to scram when the pale boy stepped forward, so that he was nearly nose to nose with Harry.  
  
"You'd best watch yourself, Potter," he said softly, "or you'll find yourself worse than dead."  
  
He turned to leave.  
  
"Was that a threat, Mr. Malfoy?"   
  
Professor Tallow had walked around the corner Malfoy was about to turn, causing Malfoy to stop dead. Malfoy shook his head slowly.  
  
"Because it sounded an awful lot like one to me," Tallow continued, stepping towards Malfoy. "Now here's one for you: If you break one rule - going outside without teacher supervision, backmouthing a teacher, I don't care - you'll be expelled faster than you can whisper Lumos."  
  
"And you'd better watch yourself, Tallow," hissed Malfoy, "not many know what you used to be."  
  
Tallow flinched slightly as Malfoy brushed by him, then followed after the Slytherin boy's retreating figure. Harry blinked, wondering what he'd just witnessed.  
  
  
"Urdai are an extinct race of dark magical creatures," said Professor Tallow, pacing back in forth in front of his fifth year Gryffindor class. "The Urdai were about four feet tall, bred of the Gnomes and the Dwarves and a little of something else altogether."  
  
Ron raised his hand.  
  
"Mr. Weasley?" Tallow inquired, gesturing to Ron.  
  
"When you say Gnome, you don't mean garden gnomes, do you?" Ron asked, brow furrowed.  
  
"No," said Tallow. "These kinds of Gnomes are like what Muggles always thought real Gnomes were: Three feet tall, gnarled facial features, and very, very irritable creatures. First thing you say to offend 'em, they're on top of you, beating you with their fists. Dwarves are much gentler folk, about the same height. Urdai are a mix of these races, and something else, though we're not quite sure what."  
  
He stopped pacing suddenly, and peered curiously at them.   
  
"Anyone know when the last Urdai were seen?" he asked. Hermione's hand shot up. "Miss Granger?"  
  
"During You-Know-Who's days, about thirty years ago," said Hermione. "You-Know-Who was using them to murder people mercilessly, until they altogether disappeared."  
  
"That is correct," said Tallow. "Five points to Gryffindor. There have been several rumors of their return, or of one or two that did not die thirty years ago, but these rumors are not confirmed, and, I believe, completely ridiculous."  
  
"Now," he continued slowly, "does anyone know where the last Urdai was rumored to be?"   
  
Lavender Brown's and Hermione's hands shot up.  
  
"Miss Brown?"  
  
"London," said Lavender.  
  
"Yes. It was reported by an anonomous Ministry official. No homework over the weekend."  
  
There were a few sighs of relief.   
  
"You can talk till the bell rings," said Tallow.   
  
"When are you going to show us Snuffle's letter?" Ron demanded as soon as these words had left the Professors mouth.  
  
"I'd say tonight, but tryouts for Keeper are tonight, maybe after them?" Harry said slowly.  
  
Ron looked doubtful, but Hermione nudged his ribcage, so they both agreed.   
  
"Ron, why don't you try out for Keeper?" Harry asked, fiddling with his wand.  
  
Ron shook his head.  
  
"I'm not a Keeper," he said. "Chaser, sure, Beater, sure, but Keeper? No way. Quaffles hurt when they're hurled at you by a seventh year."  
  
Harry chuckled, imagining Kirk Joseph's small frame being pelted by Quaffles.   
  
"Hermione, how about you - "  
  
"No way," said Hermione firmly. "I can't even fly well enough to save my life, let alone to play Quidditch. Leave me to my book studies."  
  
Harry smirked at her for a moment, then returned his attention to his wand. After a moment he was forced to stop twirling his wand around his fingertips, though; scarlet sparks shot out the end and burnt his hand, causing him to yelp.  
  
"Harry, you might want to stop playing with your wand like that," Tallow cautioned softly; "there was a man in America who killed himself twirling his wand around."  
  
"How?" Hermione asked, frowning.  
  
"He Avada Kedavra'ed himself on accident."  
  
  
"All right, here's the deal Kirk," said Fred, patting the young Gryffindor's back. "McGonagall said you could try out as long as you maintain your good grades. So DON'T SCREW UP!"  
  
Kirk grinned and nodded.   
  
"Katie, Kirk, get up there and show Kirk here what he's up against," said George. Katie Bell and Kirk nodded, then flew way up in the air.   
  
"Here's the Quaffle Katie!" Fred shouted, hurling the red ball up to the Chaser. "Harry, you and George go up there and see how could he is."  
  
Harry nodded, then climbed onto his Firebolt and shot up into the sky after Kirk and Katie. Harry settled down a few yards above the three hoops Kirk was guarding and watched him. Kirk was focusing, watching Katie as she raced in, clutching the Quaffle under her left arm. She swirved back and forth, attempting to confuse the first year; Kirk did not waver, however. He followed her movement until she was forced to shoot, and he easily knocked the ball away with his elbow, not even flinching as the ball hit him hard.  
  
Harry's eyes widened, and he glanced over at George. George was open-mouthed. Katie Bell was probably their second best Chaser, and she'd been blocked by a first year.   
  
"Angie, get up there," Fred said to Angelina Johnson. She nodded and took off. "You two work a play you'd use in a game."  
  
They nodded, then Katie retrieved the Quaffle and darted out back to the other end of the field. Katie raced in on one side, Angelina on the other; once Katie was a foot from Kirk's left side, she tossed the Quaffle over him to Angelina. Angelina thought she had an empty hoop, but when she tried to put the Quaffle in, Kirk's foot was there, and the Quaffle fell to the ground.  
  
That, in Harry's opinion, settled it. Kirk was going to be their new Keeper. He HAD to be. He was nearly perfect.  
  
"Kirk," said George after landing and having a private chat with Fred, "welcome to the team."  
  
Kirk grinned as they shook his hand and hugged him.  
  
"Quidditch cup, here we come!" Fred declared.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Harry pushed the first and third valves down on his trumpet and buzzed into it. A low-pitched sound came out of it, and Harry played the note for a moment longer than he thought was necessary. He finally stopped, breathing heavily.  
  
"It's very good," said a voice from behind him. He glanced around. Ginny Weasley was standing on the Quidditch field, smiling up at him. Harry had found that he was very self-conscious of his trumpet-playing, and therefore found it easier to practice at the Quidditch pitch - it had a barrier against spells, so teachers didn't have to be with him while he was there.  
  
"Thanks," he said, smiling back. "Did you sign up for band?"  
  
Ginny nodded, bringing out a large case.  
  
"I've played the clarinet for a few years anyway, so Professor Trins put me on the bass clarinet," she said. "I came here to practice so that no teacher could here me."  
  
"Great minds must think alike," Harry said with a laugh. Ginny grinned again, then moved to leave the pitch. "No, it's okay. You can practice here. I was nearly finished anyway."  
  
"Why don't we...why don't we practice together?" Ginny squeaked, her cheeks slightly pink.   
  
"Okay," Harry replied softly, smiling again.   
  
Ginny nodded and climbed a the few steps up into the stands to where Harry sat. She put the large case down next to her as she sat down above him a level, and opened it carefully. Inside were three long black pieces, resembling a saxaphone very much. (A/N: Gees, I've put quite a few in here lately, haven't I? Anyway, if I got the bass clarinet part wrong, bare with me; no one in our band plays the bass yet. We're looking for a bass player though)  
  
She put the very long instrument together, then took out a piece of wood and attached it to what Ron had called a mouthpiece. Then she took a metal ring out (ligature, Ron said) and fastened it around the small piece of wood. Harry watched curiously as she put a metal rod on the end of the bass clarinet and propped it against the ground. She put her mouth around the mouthpiece and blew; a very low sound came out of the bell softly.  
  
"I didn't know you played the clarinet," Harry said as she took her mouth off the mouthpiece.   
  
Ginny shrugged.  
  
"It was just a 'silly hobbie,' my mum said," she muttered. "But with the band, I guess it's not so silly now, is it?"  
  
"Guess not," Harry said. "Are you keyed in Bb?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay, play C#."  
  
Ginny nodded, repositioned her fingers and blew softly. Harry pushed all three valves down and buzzed. The same low sound came out of his, though a lot higher than hers; however, it sounded badly out of tune.   
  
Harry pushed out his small slide until the waves stopped and the sound was in tune.   
  
They broke off together.   
  
"What music d'you have?" Harry asked.   
  
"Encanto and Semper Fidelus," said Ginny, taking out two sheets of music.   
  
Harry peered curiously at Semper Fidelus; he'd only recieved Encanto. Encanto itself was very challenging, but Semper Fidelus looked ten times harder.   
  
"Erm, how about Encanto?" Harry said.   
  
"Okay."  
  
  
Harry and Ginny packed up their instruments a few hours later, Ginny having taught Harry a lot he hadn't known. Ginny didn't play the trumpet, of course, but she knew a lot about music. By the time they were done, Harry could play the first line of Semper Fidelus.   
  
Professor Trins picked them up at the Quidditch pitch's exit, and escorted them to the castle. He bid them farewell as they reached the steps to the Entrance Hall, and walked off towards Hagrid's cabin.   
  
"When d'you reckon we'll play first?" Harry asked as they walked into the Entrance Hall.   
  
"I'd say we'll have a Christmas concert, maybe the night of the Christmas Ball," Ginny said. "And I know we're marching every Quidditch game, except for the players that are in band. Well, not really marching, just playing out on the field for the audience before the game begins, then playing when either team scores. Very painful for you, I imagine, when we have to play when Slytherin scores."  
  
Harry grimaced as they walked through the deserted Great Hall. Of course, it was nearly eleven o'clock by now, so everyone was in their common room by now. Harry and Ginny walked in silence until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, at which point Ginny muttered, "Filepina."  
  
The Fat Lady swung open after waking herself up, muttering angrily about band students "coming in at all hours." Harry and Ginny walked by the sofas, then Ginny bid Harry goodnight and left.   
  
"Where the hell have you and my sister been?"   
  
Harry spun slowly around. Ron was sitting in the chair by the fire, staring at Harry with a cold look in his eyes. Harry was taken aback by Ron's look, but shrugged as he sat down across from Ron.   
  
"Practicing for band," he said slowly. "Why?"  
  
"Why? Why?" Ron spluttered, "I'll tell you why! You were out for three hours with my little sister, doing who knows what!"  
  
"Ron, we were practicing our instruments," Harry said slowly, unsure if Ron had heard him correctly. "Nothing more."  
  
"Why didn't you get me?"  
  
"I don't like people listening to me."  
  
"Then why did you let Ginny practice with you?"  
  
Harry stared at Ron for a moment. Why HAD he let Ginny stay? He WAS very self-conscious.... He forced a shrug.  
  
"Dunno," he said. "She said she was like me, didn't like people to hear her...and I was at the Quidditch pitch, the only place we could practice without teachers or students listening...so I figured it'd be selfish of me to hog the pitch, so I let her stay."  
  
Ron's eyes glinted dangerously, then he dropped the coldness.   
  
"All right, but don't mess with my sister, Harry," he said easily. "Let's get some sleep."  
  
  
On top of Quidditch practice and homework was now band practice; Trins was working the people who'd be playing at the game next week furiously, and they were starting to sound like a group. Trins had started them on simple pieces like one called Legend, then bumped them up to harder ones like Encanto. Now they were working on a challenging American piece, "Louie, Louie," which was a nice, fiery piece to get the crowd motivated. Trins had decided to split them into two sections for the game - Gryffindors and Ravenclaw to play when Gryffindor scored, and Slytherins and Hufflepuff to play when Hufflepuff scored.   
  
On the Friday morning before the game that afternoon, Professor Trins called them together to practice one last time.   
  
"First," he told them, "I just want to apologize for pushing you guys so hard. We should've started in a nice, easy book with simple pieces, but we've got the games to play, so I had to do that. And one more thing, Tari will direct section two, and I'll take section one."  
  
The Hufflepuff-players were section two, and the Gryffindor-players were section one. Harry was rather glad he'd have Professor Trins; that way Malfoy would be stuck with the much-stricter Professor Tari.   
  
The whole band was actually comprised of about sixty students. Some had been playing for a while, like Ginny, but most of them had started like Harry and Ron. Kirk sat next to Harry, and Harry discovered that Kirk's style of play was very, very loud. That was, of course, good for playing outside, but once they were in the band room Kirk's style wouldn't be the best in the world. Harry ignored it, however, and when they were in the common room he'd even silence Kirk's trumpet with a Silencing Charm.  
  
Finally it was gametime. The Gryffindor team was in their locker area, changing into Fred and George's new robes. Kirk was particularly excited; Harry imagined he must've been like this his first game. After they changed, Fred and George got them together for their pep-talk.  
  
"Okay," said Fred, "we're not using Oliver's speech, no matter how much any of you liked it."  
  
"We came up with out own," George explained. "Take it away, Fred."  
  
"Okay, firstly, Harry, don't catch the Snitch till we've seen what Kirkie can do," said Fred.   
  
"Yeah," George agreed. "Let him face a few shots before you catch it if you can. Unless the other Seeker goes for the Snitch before you do. By the way, who is the new Seeker for Hufflepuff?"  
  
Harry felt a stab of anguish, but maintained his composure.  
  
"I think it's Hannah Abbot," Harry said slowly.  
  
Katie Bell nodded.  
  
"She is," she agreed.  
  
"All right," said Fred. "Don't let her tail you like Chang does, but stick close to her. Don't let her get the snitch before you."  
  
"Okay, break!"  
  
They walked out onto the pitch, not nervous at all. Dumbledore himself was referring the game, so the two teams gathered around him.  
  
"Mount your brooms," he said. He took a silver whistle in his mouth and blew. Harry darted off. Hannah Abbot didn't appear remotely interested in following him, so he just hovered around, listening to Lee Jordan's commentary.  
  
"Hufflepuff takes the Quaffle down the field," he said.   
  
Harry then stopped listening, deciding on circling around intently instead. He could watch Kirk that way as well. He flew towards the Gryffindor goal posts, watching Kirk.   
  
"Gryffindor steals the pass! Katie passes it to Angelina, who snaps it over to Alicia, a quick move to the left, then passes back to Katie, and they score! Gryffindor lead ten to nothing! Hufflepuff in possession. Hufflepuff's team is surprisingly mainly comprised of second years. Their captain is now Hannah Abbot, a fifth year, and three memebers of their team - two Chasers and a Beater - are second years! Amazing, isn't it? Back to the game, though. Kevin Whitby takes it down the field, passes to Laura Madley. The young ones are really speeding down the court today! Madley passes back to Whitby, takes the Quaffle down the field - oh! Whitby breaks free of the group of players with an amazing speed burst, fakes left, then right, shot! GREAT SAVE JOSEPH!"  
  
Kirk grinned as he heard his dad's trademark call ("GREAT SAVE JOSEPH!") from the commentator. This was the life.  
  
"Now Gryffindor takes the Quaffle," Lee continued excitedly. "Still no action for our beloved Seekers in this game, but I have the feeling there will be soon."  
  
He's seen the Snitch, Harry thought instantly, glancing towards Hannah Abbot. She apparently hadn't seen whatever Lee had, however; she was doing loop-the-loops in the air near her Keeper. Harry continued circling the field, suinting through the air. Mist had fallen on the field, layers of fog that clouded his vision; he could now barely make out the goalpost he was but ten yards away from.  
  
"Well..." Lee's voice sounded a bit shocked. "I can't exactly see the match at the moment...too much fog.... I'll try, though. I think that's Katie who's got the Quaffle right now...she passes to a little red dot...no! wait! that's Angelina...pass back to Alicia...shot.... Blocked easily by the Hufflepuff Keeper. Er...taken by Whitby...he passes way on down to Madley...boy, the young ones are putting on a show here today!" The mist parted slightly, so Lee could see a bit better. "Madley races in! Last minute pass to Whitby! SHOT! Kicked away by Joseph, but picked up again by Madley! Madley with a shot, save Joseph! Whitby picks it up, passes to Madley, Madley passes back, shot, score! Laura Madley puts the Quaffle by Joseph, a first goal against the young Keeper. Ten all.  
  
"Alicia picks up the Quaffle and takes it down the field. Oh! Madley intercepts the pass! She's all alone, racing towards Joseph! Fakes left, then right, then shot! SAVE JOSEPH! Joseph throws the Quaffle as hard as he can towards Katie! Katie, shot! SCORES! Twenty to ten, Gryffindor. Madley takes it on down the field - oh! Bludger darts at her and near knocks her off her broom; she recovers and flies on, passing it to Whitby. Whitby throws the Quaffle hard as he can towards Joseph! Joseph's knocked clean off his broom, but somehow manages to hang on with his hand! No goal, and a penalty to Gryffindor taken by - Joseph? How can a Keeper take a penalty? Anyway...Joseph takes the Quaffle and speeds down the field, takes a hard shot and scores! Thirty to ten Gryffindor."  
  
Harry had spotted a golden glint of light in the far corner of the field. Hannah hadn't seen it; she was still flying around aimlessly. Harry thought hard for a moment, thinking; Kirk had made a few saves, but were those few enough for Fred and George? He decided they would have to live with it, because he might not see the Snitch again for some time.... He dove after the glint of gold in a hurry.  
  
"Gryffindor Seeker Harry Potter goes into a massive dive!" Lee Jordan shrieked. "He's diving, diving, diving! He's going to hit the ground! NO! HE PULLS UP LAST MINUTE WITH THE SNITCH CLASPED IN HIS HAND!"  
  
Harry flew to the ground softly, cleaning his glasses; the mist was all over them. Harry wiped them dry, then walked over to the rest of the team. They were cheering happily, raising Kirk on their shoulders.  
  
"Great dive, Harry!" Fred shouted.   
  
"Yeah! I didn't think you'd seen it!" George nodded.   
  
"And our Keeper's a big boy now!" Angelina declared, ruffling Kirk's hair.   
  
"Only two wins to go!" Fred said loudly.  
  
"To the common room!" George shouted, his hand outstretched. The team cheered again, then they lifted Harry up on their shoulders as well, and carried he and Kirk to the Gryffindor common room, singing merrily and loudly as they walked.   
  
  
  
Much later that night, Harry pulled his scarlet Quidditch robes off and placed them in the Gryffindor team locker room for safekeeping. It was at least midnight now, and the locker room was very quiet. Harry ran his finger along his scar absentmindedly as he walked back towards his common room, wondering to himself. The castle was very quiet as well now, the sounds of a party all but gone. Harry swore he heard faint music playing in the distance...like an organ...distant and spooky. Harry quickened his pace. A hand touching his shoulder caused him to start. He whirled to see Dumbledore standing there, smiling down at him. But the smile looked a bit forced and tight, as though Dumbledore was worried of something.   
  
"A word if you would, Harry," he said soflty. Harry nodded, then followed the old man as he led him towards - towards where? This wasn't the way to Dumbledore's office, was it? Harry glanced around uneasily, and as he did so, he saw a man. He did a double take.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore?" he said slowly to the man. The man turned, and smiled warmly at Harry. "There's another...another you right here..."  
  
Dumbledore frowned at Harry, then walked forward slowly. Harry turned towards the other Dumbledore, who had turned to face Harry. The second Dumbledore appeared at Harry's other side, and stared at his other form for a moment, a bewildered look on his face. Harry blinked, and the first Dumbledore was gone. The second Dumbledore, obviously the real Dumbledore, grabbed Harry's shoulders.  
  
"Who was that?" he asked Harry immediately.   
  
"You..." Harry managed to say in utter shock.   
  
"No, it wasn't me," Dumbledore said softly. "Oh no. Go to your common room immediately, Harry. Do nothing else."  
  
Harry nodded, then wandered off to his dorm, wondering if he'd been seeing things.... 


	13. Of Creatures That Kill In the Night

First another quick note: One of my reviewers pointed out that I forgot to put in Sirius's letter. Erm...it'll be in the next chapter, 'cause I've already finished this one and don't fill like re-editing. Let's just say everyone forgot with the attack on Harry.  
  
  
Chapter Thirteen  
  
  
  
  
Of Creatures That Kill In the Night  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next few weeks after the Quidditch match and the Dumbledore illusion passed uneventfully. Harry had decided to skip the Halloween Ball because of loads of homework, and a Slytherin Quidditch match was coming up; the band had to play at it. The grounds were very foggy and misty one Friday afternoon as Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked to Care of Magical Creatures. The fog was nearly a solid white color, and envoloped everything it came near. It had crept in the night before, silent in its stealthy "attack" on the grounds. Hogsmeade had somehow evaded the mist, but lay silent amid the laughter around Hogwarts. Every little noise as they walked seemed to be magnified, and somehow reached their ears.   
  
Harry shivered and pulled his robes tight about his lean frame. With the fog, the days had began growing steadily colder since the match. The day seemed to glow with excitement, yet there was a certain cold pretence about the air. It was finally the night of Halloween, also the Halloween Ball; everyone was growing nervous and excited except for Harry and Ron. Ron had decided also to skip the ball; Hermione, as a prefect, had to be there to make sure nothing went wrong. This hadn't helped Ron's decision in staying, but in the end he'd agreed.   
  
After walked a moment more, Hagrid's hut emerged from the mist finally. A few people were already there; at least, a few was all Harry could see. There was also a rumbling nearby, a constant yet distant shaking of something.   
  
"Do I dare ask what we're doing today?" Malfoy's drawling voice drifted through the mist, and he appeared a moment later, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.   
  
Now Hagrid appeared out of the mist, wearing dragon hide gloves and looking a little frightened.   
  
"'S' everyone here?" he said loudly.   
  
There were a few "yes"s and "no"s.   
  
"Today we're goin' ter see somethin' you'll ne'er see again," Hagrid said, grinning ear-to-ear.   
  
"Does it involve hurting us in any given way?" Ron muttered.  
  
"Not unless yeh make it mad," Hagrid responded. Ron backed away, eyes widening. "First thin's first. Don' make this creature mad! Tear yeh into small pieces, it will. I'd hate ter pick up yer pieces, too. Yeh should be fine if yeh keep yer distance. Don' make eye contact with it 'less yeh wish to be less a finger or head for that matter. Folla me."  
  
Harry stared after Hagrid's large form until it disappeared in the mist, then slowly trudged after, wondering what in the world they were seeing. Ron and Hermione walked behind him, both looking apprehensive.   
  
"Hold up here," Hagrid commanded, stopping in front of Harry. "Wait till I make sure he don' mind a few visitors."  
  
Harry stared at Hagrid in amazement and wonder. Hagrid disappeared once more, and the rumbling noise stopped for a moment. Then Hagrid reappeared, looking shaken again. The rumbling started up again.  
  
"I'll take yeh to 'im three at a time," he said, grin appearing once more on his bearded face. "You three can come first."  
  
He nodded towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry nodded, mumbling a weak, "Okay" before setting off after Hagrid once more. They were heading towards the Forbidden Forest.   
  
Suddenly the mist parted around a small, iron-barred cage.   
  
"Professor Tallow said yeh were talkin' 'bout Urdais, so I found one o' 'em wanderin' 'round the grounds," Hagrid said, gesturing to a four-foot-tall creature standing in the cage, shrieking. It was shaking the iron bars with ferocity in its eyes, bearing two rows of sharp teeth and foot-long claws. The thing shrieked again. "Don' take kind to bein' in captivity."  
  
"I can...tell," Ron said softly and slowly. "Where'd you find this...this thing again?"  
  
"Wanderin' the grounds," Hagrid responded, scratching his chin. "Thought they were all dead, like most people do. The Urdais were a race back long ago. They were connected to Banshees and...and Reapers. Reapers are...well, you know the Muggle story of the Grim Reaper, don' yeh?" Harry and Hermione nodded, but Ron looked confused.  
  
"I'll tell you later, Ron," Hermione whispered.  
  
"Well, Reapers are ten times worse," Hagrid went on quietly. "Swift and silent; yeh don' hear 'em till 's' too late. Carry giant sythes, usually. The Reapers are all but gone, though. Reapers gave way to creatures such as Dementors, and soon Boggarts and every other dark creature was created. Don' ever mess with a Reaper," he added, turning to them, face hard. "Yeh'll be dead 'for yeh can think otherwise. Run if yeh see any 'round here. Let's head on back to the others."  
  
Harry looked at the Urdai again, remembering something. Hadn't that Slytherin first year's name been...Urdai?  
  
  
  
By Halloween night, rain was coming down softly from the sky. Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room, listening to the rain patter against the glass. The feast was over, and the ball was going on in the Great Hall. Ron had left Harry alone to practice his clarinet, and nearly every other Gryffindor was either at the ball or sleeping. Harry had already practiced his trumpet as soon as they got in from Care of Magical Creatures. He'd also finished all his Transfiguration (Three feet of parchment on why Transfiguration is important to you), and he could now do small Song Charms, which he'd been interested in since he'd read the passage over them over the summer.  
  
The rain splattered down on the windows softly, reverberating through the still common room. The drops weren't coming down hard; it was just enough to shatter the silence for a moment. Every ten minutes or so lightning would briefly light the grounds, which were now void of fog, making everything easy to see even from the top of the Gryffindor tower. Harry sat up suddenly as a bolt of lightning streaked the sky, and lit the grounds enough for him to see...what was it?   
  
Harry pulled out his wand and clenched it tightly in his fist. He walked to the window and stood there, waiting for lightning to flash again. After a moment it did, and Harry saw...Hagrid's Urdai? It was no longer in its cage, if it was indeed the Urdai.   
  
"Nox," Harry whispered. The common room fire died instantly. The room was pitch black. Lightning streaked again. Yes, it was definately the Urdai. But Harry blinked, and it was gone. Just like...just like...  
  
Harry started as a hand touched his shoulder. The common room was lit brightly once more. The Urdai was gone. Ginny Weasley stood there as he turned around, her red hair shimmering in the crackling fire's light. Harry sighed.  
  
"You scared me to death," he muttered, sitting down on the scarlet sofa near the fire.   
  
"Why aren't you at the ball?" Ginny asked, sitting down next to him quietly.  
  
"Why aren't you?" Harry responded defiantly, gazing at the fire.  
  
"No one asked me," said Ginny.   
  
"You could've gone alone."  
  
"I didn't want to."  
  
"Oh."  
  
There was silence for a moment. "What were you looking at?" Ginny asked finally.  
  
"Nothing," Harry answered quickly.   
  
"Whatever, Harry," Ginny responded, sounding a bit annoying...a bit unlike Ginny.   
  
"Ginny, is something wrong?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowed.  
  
"No. I'm going to bed." Ginny got up and left quickly, muttering goodnight under her breath. Harry stared after her, confused. What had he done?  
  
  
  
The next morning, Harry woke up and walked down to breakfast, his head hurting. He knew exactly what he was going to do as soon as he'd eaten breakfast--go see Hagrid. If anyone could shed light on the dark races of animals, it was Hagrid. Hagrid would hug a Blast-Ended Skrewt if he could manage it, so he would of course know a lot about creatures. Even if they were dark.  
  
Harry ate breakfast quickly, and didn't bother to wake Ron and Hermione. There was once more fog on the grounds, so Harry stumbled down to Hagrid's cabin. It was also ten times colder than it had been, so Harry wrapped his robes tightly about him to keep warm. After walked a few moments, Hagrid's cabin emerged from the stillness of the fog. Harry gathered his nerve and knocked on Hagrid's door.   
  
"Harry!" Hagrid beamed down at him. "Thought you'd forgot about me. C'mon in, make yerself at home!"  
  
Hagrid's hut was much warmer than the grounds were; a fire was in the fireplace, and there were a few scraps of food on the table. Harry sat down at the table across from Hagrid, who was still grinning.   
  
"Want summat ter eat?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"No, I just ate breakfast," Harry responded. "I thought it had been a while since I'd come to see you, so I decided to drop in. Hope you don't mind."  
  
"No, no, not at all," Hagrid said. "What's on yer mind?"  
  
"I was kind of interested in the dark creatures during Voldemort's time," Harry said slowly, ignoring Hagrid's flinch. "You know, what kinds were there and where did they come from. Stuff like that."  
  
"Well," Hagrid began uncertainly, "the Urdais were there, o' course. Tore people limb from limb You-Know-Who didn't want ter kill.... The Reapers were there, as well. There were on'y a few o' the Reapers, but they made their presence known. Never really fought with You-Know-Who or us either one, just kinda let themselves be acknowledged. Swift and silent, deadly predators. The Dementors were fightnin' with You-Know-Who as well.... A few Veela joined in on the fight with him, but they mostly kept to themselves. All kinds of ferocious feline creatures; panthers, tigers, coots, sphinxes, and bobcats. Coots are three foot-long panthers with glowing red eyes. They're still in the forest to this day."  
  
He paused for a moment. "I s'ppose it was the Urdais and the Reapers that killed the most people. Along with You-Know-Who's basilisk, they were unstopable. But even You-Know-Who feared the Reaper...the Reapers only worked with him because they liked to kill, not out of fear as most did. Fierce demons. Steer clear o' them. Don' ever mess with a Reaper. Once it's got yer trail, yer as good as gone. Never gives up once it starts huntin', an' huntin's what it does best. No one's e'er seen a Reaper's face, except its victoms. Yer as good as gone when yeh see the face."  
  
  
  
  
In the bows of a dark castle, a small, manlike creature walked slowly onward, cloak wrapped about its form. Its red eyes were but slits against the darkness surrounding it, and even from several feet away, the last of the Urdais was easily recognizable to those who had seen them in earlier days. The Urdai walked swiftly down the corridors until it came upon a long, marble, red-carpeted staircase. A man with red slits for eyes like the Urdai stood a few steps up, his eyes narrowed towards the Gnome-like visitor.  
  
Voldemort lifted his head slightly towards the Urdai, an odd look creasing his face.  
  
"What brings you through these parts, Urdai?" Voldemort asked softly. "Any luck?"  
  
"One victom," came a rattling voice from behind the shadows of the cowl. "I shall destroy Potter soon."  
  
"Be swift in your attack," said Voldemort, "or Dumbledore will have you before you can blink."  
  
"It shall be so."  
  
"Do not fail me. I cannot tolerate many more failures."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
There was silence for a moment. "I want a pay increase."  
  
"Twenty thousand Galleons not enough for one simple murder these days?" Voldemort asked, a hint of laughter in his voice.  
  
"Not enough for two murders, and I have already commited one."  
  
"How much do you want?"  
  
"Fourty thousand. No less."  
  
Voldemort bristled upon the Urdai as though he'd drawn his wand.  
  
"Thirty thousand," said Voldemort.  
  
"Thirty five."  
  
"Deal."  
  
The Urdai extended his hand.  
  
"Ah-ah-ah. I'll pay when you've got Potter's body here."  
  
"Very well. I shall be back in three days to check in."  
  
He bowed to leave, but Voldemort's voice stopped him.  
  
"First, I want you to meet my new friend," Voldemort said softly. A shadow emerged from the backgrounds of the shadowy castle, a tall, lean form, cloaked in black. Its movements were swift and silent; death itself. The Urdai gulped. A Reaper. "This is the penalty of betrayal and failure, Urdai."  
  
The Urdai nodded, then bowed and disappeared. The Reaper disappeared once more into the shadows of the castle, but Voldemort could feel its presence near him.   
  
"Tonight, we terrorize the Finnigins," Voldemort hissed softly, feeling the Reaper's excitement grow.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Harry Potter slept restlessly in his dorm at Hogwarts, as dreams continued to creep into his head, torturing him a bit more each time. He woke with a start at one point, and heard footsteps scuttling across the floor. Harry grabbed his wand and pulled back the curtains of his four-poster. Seamus Finnigin stood there, tip-toeing towards his bed.  
  
"Seamus, what are you doing?" Harry asked softly.  
  
Seamus turned with start, glancing at Harry uncertainly.   
  
"I snuck out to see Lavender," he said quickly. "You won't tell, will you Harry?"   
  
"Guess not, Seamus," Harry muttered, crawling back into bed. "Good night."   
  
As Harry laid back down, he felt a prick on his back. He got up and turned to see a little needle sticking through a piece of parchment on his bed. Blood-red ink was scribbled across it. Harry unfolded it slowly, and read:  
  
  
BeTtEr WaTcH YoUr gIrLfrIenD TonIGht PoTtER  
  
  
Harry stared at the letter a moment longer, then, without thinking, ran to the girls' dormitory in search of the fourth years' dorm. He nearly knocked the door down as he pushed through, then remembered everyone was asleep. He stared at the beds. Which one was Ginny's? He crept to the one on the far right, and slowly pulled the four-poster open. To his surprise, the redhaired girl was lying there, eyes closed softly. Harry shook himself inwardly, then headed for Dumbledore's office, wondering why he'd gone to Ginny first.  
  
The castle at night was full of all sorts of strange sounds, which didn't ease Harry's conscious in the least. Dumbledore's office was quite a far way away from the Gryffindor tower, so Harry walked briskly, wondering if the headmaster was even awake at times like this. It was one o'clock in the morning, Harry thought as he checked his watch.   
  
But he continued to Dumbledore's office. He finally stopped as he reached the gargoyle in front of the professor's office. He didn't know the password. In the end (and after shouting numerous Muggle sweets at the gargoyle), Haryr decided to leave a note on the door. He left the piece of parchment and scrolled a short letter to Dumbledore (I found this last night, Harry) and stuck the needle through the soft wood. He then went back to bed and slept soundly the rest of the night.  
  
  
At breakfast the next morning, an owl came for Seamus. His parents were dead, killed by Voldemort's new henchman, a Reaper.   
  
  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
  
  
All right, here's a quick note: Thanks to those who have reviewed. The next part may take a while longer 'cause I haven't started on it and I've got a LOT to do this weekend...I'll try to get it up by Sunday hopefully. Thanks for your patience. Don't you just HATE Algebra? 


	14. Sirius's Warning

This one is very, very short, but the next one will be much longer. The next one will also be in html format with italics and proper spellings and things like that. I mainly wrote this one to include Sirius's short letter, and to foreshadow a little bit. Thanks for listening to my rambling, now you can read the story.   
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Fourteen  
  
  
  
Sirius's Warning  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It came for Harry in his sleep, swift and silent in its approach. He had not seen the creature until it stood several feet away, a black, tall form crouched nearby. It carried something...something Harry could not quite make out. As it began to slowly stalk forward, its movements were silent; not even a soft breeze came from the sweeping black robes as they billowed out around the figure. Small, red eyes stared out of the creature's cowl with a bit of excitement concealed beneath them. Harry's own emerald gaze met the crimson one, and Harry could not move; he stood tranfixed, staring into the creature's blood-red eyes. It crept nearer, ever closer....  
  
And Harry's eyes snapped open, glancing around. Everything was blurry and glazed over as he glanced around. Out of instinct, he reached out and snatched his glasses off of his night stand and roughly shoved them on his face. Everything came into sharp focus. He was still safely under the covers in his four-poster.   
  
His pajamas were moist with sweat, as was his black hair, and his blankets and comfortor. Harry glanced hurriedly around, examining the four-poster as though he'd never before seen it. An instant later, he snapped the curtains open just enough for his hand to fit through a small hole and peer out. Everything appeared normal from the outside...as long as there was actually someone within the confines of each of the five four-posters, everything was, indeed, perfectly fine, and he had been dreaming.  
  
Of course, that had indeed been what had happened. He had fallen asleep and dreamt about the stories Hagrid had told him of, and of the night of the ball, when he'd seen the Urdai...  
  
It was nearly four thirty A.M., and the sun hadn't yet crested near the eastern sky. Harry got up slowly, wondering why he was doing so. It was only four thirty. Way too early even for breakfast. Classes didn't start for some odd three or four hours, so he should've gone back to bed and gotten some rest.  
  
And yet he could not. He stretched as he stood between his and Ron's bed, hearing a few brittle joints pop and snap. Checking to make sure his wand was in his pajama pocket, he headed on down the stairs and towards the common room.   
  
The fire was still crackling and flaring brightly in the common room, lighting the whole of the room. Harry walked slowly over to the sofa in front of the fire and sat down, propping his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands. He stared at the fire carefully, watching sparks shoot around every few minutes, thinking hard about all he'd seen so far.   
  
First there had been the attack on the cabin, if one could call it an attack to begin with. All that really had happened was that Harry had seen something, or thought he'd seen something, gotten spooked and ran. The cabin just happened to blow up seconds later, purely out of coincidence most likely.  
  
"Stop kidding yourself, Harry," said Harry softly to himself. It had not been coincidence. Not at all. Nothing was anymore. There had been the creature, but Harry had not been able to see it...it had been within the shadows of the trees....   
  
Why had it told Harry to run, though? It just didn't make sense. If it had wanted Harry dead, it would not have told him to run. Or would it have? Harry's eyes snapped shut in frustration as he clawed his hair. Maybe it had been a trap? No, they'd gotten away, hadn't they? Or were they all in fact dead right now? Yeah, that's thinking logical, all right, Harry snapped at himself. Harry lifted his head again, only to let it fall back down between his forearms once more.   
  
Harry's head snapped up once more as he heard soft footfall from behind him. He turned his head slowly to see Ginny's slender form standing a few feet away at the stairway to the dorms, her red hair glistening in the fire as it had the night of the ball. The night of the ball...  
  
Harry was now wide awake, but half-smiled at Ginny as she approached him. She sat down on next to him, and stared at the fire.   
  
"D'you still want to know what I was looking at during the ball?" Harry asked softly, breaking the silence. Ginny turned slowly to him, brows furrowed.   
  
"What d'you mean?" she asked in a whisper.  
  
Now Harry frowned, meeting her gaze.  
  
"The Halloween ball?" he said, voice growing quieter. "During it you found me looking out the window at something, and asked me what I had been looking at.... Didn't you?"  
  
Ginny shook her head slowly.  
  
"I was at the ball, Harry," she whispered, "so how could I have asked you?" Her voice carried no sign of annoyance or irritation.   
  
Harry's eyes shut softly, and he thought back. That HAD been Ginny, hadn't it? Was he hallucinating now?  
  
"You were at the ball?" he asked, staring intently at her brown eyes.   
  
She nodded. "Yes."  
  
"Then who was here during the ball? You don't have a twin, do you?" Harry asked, offering a smile.  
  
Ginny returned it quietly. "No. I don't have a twin. Fred and George are the only twins in our family."  
  
Confusion flashed across Harry's weary face, and he leaned forward, so close he could feel her breath on his face.  
  
"You're sure you were at the ball, that you didn't leave early and come here?" he whispered, breathing through his mouth heavily.  
  
"Positive."  
  
Harry held her gaze a moment more, then turned his eyes to the fire. Something had been in the grounds at Hogwarts, and was now back...in some form....  
  
Harry shook his head, then slowly stood up, sighing softly.   
  
"What's wrong?" whispered Ginny, frowning.  
  
He hesitated. "Nothing," he said after a moment's consideration, his voice barely audible. "Nothing's wrong. I'm going back up to bed for a couple hour's rest. Night, Ginny."  
  
After pausing for another moment, Harry smiled at her, then headed up for his dorm, wheels spinning in his head. First there had been two Dumbledores, and now two Ginnys? But what could clone other being's forms so that it looked like them?  
  
  
As Harry later woke that morning for breakfast, he finally remembered Sirius's forgotten letter. He dug through his robe pockets until he finally found the folded, crinkled piece of parchment. He unfolded it and read it as he dug through his trunk for a set of clean robes.  
  
  
Harry,  
  
  
Hope you're doing all right. I'm doing fine, before you ask. I've been staying with Moony the past few weeks for precautious reasons. Everything's been blown out of porportion. Fudge still won't come around, but I think we'll convince him eventually. After the deaths, that is.   
  
On another note, don't stray far from the grounds; I've heard of a new henchman of Voldemort - it's a creature called a Reaper. Stay close inside from now on. Don't reply to me until the last week of November for certain reasons. Happy Halloween.  
  
Sirius  
  
  
Harry folded up the letter and tucked it away into his trunk, mind racing. Now even Sirius was telling him to stay within the grounds, as he had last year. Could things really be that bad once more? Or were they, in fact, worse this time? 


	15. A Day In the Forbidden Forest

Chapter Fifteen

A Day In the Forbidden Forest

Harry walked down to breakfast that same morning, thoughts playing teasingly throughout his mind, which he was constantly trying to sustain. But he could not keep the thoughts from pouring in; thoughts of the Reaper, his dream of (presumably) the Reaper, and Sirius's warning. He knew his mind should be elsewhere — the Quidditch match he and the rest of the band was playing at was in a couple of days, and he needed to be ready — but the teasing thoughts would not stop, even when he wanted them to.

He sat down at the Gryffindor table with a dull _thud_, then began eating his bacon and eggs slowly, trying to take his mind off Voldemort. It was as he was taking a sip of milk that he felt someone sit down quietly next to him, and he glanced over at the person. Ginny's flowing red hair was suddenly right in front of him, and it startled him so that he nearly jumped. 

Ginny turned to face him and smiled warmly, offering a pleasant "Good morning," in his direction before beginning to eat her breakfast. Harry returned a soft "Good morning" to her, then continued eating quietly. Before long, several more students had entered the Great Hall, and after a moment the post arrived. Hedwig's snowy white form was nowhere to be found within the mass of swirling feathers, so Harry was getting up to leave when Ginny pulled him back to his seat gently.

"What's up?" Harry asked, glancing at her curiously.

Ginny shrugged very casually. "I'm just wondering what happened during the ball…. Why you thought I was in the common room…?" She turned the last bit into a question by giving him a questioning glance. 

Harry hesitated a moment, giving her a piercing stare while weighing his choices: If he lied, Ginny would probably eventually learn the truth from someone, somewhere when it blew up in his face at the end of the year; if he told the truth, he could endanger her as much as him. 

Harry made his decision. "Meet me in the Charms classroom during lunch, and I'll tell you," he said so only she could hear. Ginny nodded, then waved goodbye to him as he walked off to gather his things for his first class.

On his way to the Gryffindor common room, he saw Seamus Finnigin walking down to the Great Hall.

"Morning, Seamus," said Harry brightly as he passed. Seamus nodded, acknowledging Harry's presence. Harry shook his head as he walked on, completely missing Seamus's blood-red gaze stare after him.

***

When the lunch bell rang, Harry made his way slowly to the Charms classroom. After thinking it over during his first class, he realized he really didn't want to tell Ginny; as he had already considered, it would most likely endanger her, and Harry had already endangered quite enough people. If something happened to Ginny because of him…

Harry opened the door to the classroom and slipped in, hopefully going unnoticed by everyone. He hadn't wanted to use his Invisibility Cloak; Ginny didn't know about it yet, and on top of that, he didn't feel safe letting secrets out anymore…not with something that could impersonate others running loose…

He slowly walked over to a chair and sat down with a soft _thud_. He had been sitting for a few moments when the door flew open, and Ginny walked in quietly, taking a seat next to his. They remained silent for a moment, until Ginny finally spoke very softly.

"You wanted to tell me something?" she said slowly. 

Harry nodded without speaking. Ginny, it appeared, would not take a nod for an answer, and pressed the matter.

"So what was it that you wanted to tell me?" 

"You asked," said Harry after moment, "what I was talking about earlier this morning in the common room." Ginny nodded solemnly, and Harry sighed quietly. "A few days ago—maybe a week, I don't remember the exact time—I was walking back from the Quidditch game, Dumbledore said he needed to have a word with me. I was following him when I saw another Dumbledore—obviously the real Dumbledore—walk by. 

"I blinked several times, but both Dumbledores were there," Harry continued, "until I spoke to the real Dumbledore. Then the fake one disappeared. Dumbledore got a worried look and told me to go straight to bed, so I did. I thought at the time I was just seeing things—nothing more than a little over-excitement from the Quidditch game, I reasoned. Until the night of the Halloween ball."

He paused a moment before continuing. "Then I saw Hagrid's Urdai wandering the grounds as it rained. I blinked and it disappeared, and when I turned around, you were there, or at least who I thought was you. You asked me…what I was looking at, and I said nothing. Then you got all huffy and left. It was like you were…were…" He trailed off, searching for the word. "Possessed, I guess," he finished lamely. 

Harry gazed at Ginny. She had listened in silence the entire time, and now stared directly back at Harry with her large blue eyes.

Harry jolted back to reality.

_Blue eyes?_

Harry jumped out of his chair and actually thought of drawing his wand on the red-haired girl before him, then decided against it. His chair had fallen over in his haste, and clattered to the floor with an eerie echo. The door flew open again, and in walked…Ginny?

Harry wheeled around, and the other Ginny was gone. Rubbing his eyes furiously, he scanned the area 'Ginny' had just sat in. 

"What's wrong Harry?" Ginny (the one by the door) asked. "Sorry I'm a little late. Professor Snape held me up in his dungeon for spilling beetle eyes everywhere…. What're you looking for?"

Harry hesitated once more, then walked over to Ginny and looked at her eyes. They were definitely brown, no blue tint about them. Before he could stop himself, he had spilled out his entire story to Ginny, praying inside that this was indeed Ginny, and not the same impostor that had been running around school lately. 

"…and then the other Ginny disappeared, leaving you and me here," he finished his story for the second time in thirty minutes. "Something's happening, Gin, but I have no clue as to what or who is doing it. How could something just…_disappear?_ Apparition?"

"No," said Ginny instantly, "you can't Apparate on and off Hogwarts grounds."

"Of course," said Harry in an offhand manner, "how can I keep forgetting that?" He sighed loudly. "Then how the hell is that _thing_ doing it?!"

Ginny shook her head, her fiery hair shimmering slightly. 

"I don't know, Harry," she said finally, "I just don't know."

"Don't tell anyone about this except…" 

"Hermione, and you tell Ron," Ginny finished for him. Seeing his blank expression, she added hastily, "We've got to tell _someone_ about this, you know. If you don't want to tell Dumbledore, that's fine by me, but at least get Ron and Hermione in on this. They need to be warned as much as me, if not more." She paused, searching Harry's anguish-filled face. "They'll help you through this more than I can, Harry Potter."

She turned to leave without saying goodbye. Harry stared after her, then shook his head slowly, wondering why girls were so hard to understand. 

He walked out of the classroom, wondering whether or not to look for her. After hesitating a moment, he made his decision, and set out to find a red-haired, short, fourth year girl. 

As Harry walked away, scratching his head in confusion, Professors Dumbledore, Flitwick, and McGonagall reappeared within the confines of the Charms classroom, each holding the same weary look on their faces. Dumbledore scratched his chin for a moment, then turned to the other professors.

"Has Severus said anything to you about this?" he asked.

"No," said McGonagall, echoed by Flitwick a moment later. 

"Either he's not letting on to us all that he knows, or Voldemort knows more than we think he does," said Dumbledore slowly, "and I'm willing to bet it's the former to the latter. Search the library for any information on such creatures as what Harry has described, and I'll ask Remus, Sirius, and Dol if they've heard anything of the return of any…such creatures."

He turned to them, a questioning look on his face which plainly said "What do you think?"

McGonagall, shook her head slowly. "I have no clue. I know what I'd like to _think_ it is, but it's impossible. The…"

"Urdai," Professor Flitwick interjected. "Find the Slytherin first year Urdai Clarily. There's something strange about her. Something very strange indeed."

***

Harry found her sitting under a tree near the lake, staring out at the rippling waters with a distant look in her eyes. Though he didn't think he'd actually _done_ anything, he approached her cautiously, and sat down next to her. 

"Why aren't you in class?" he asked gently, stretching his left leg out before him.

Ginny looked down, then back out towards the waters. 

"I don't know," she admitted. "I just…. I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye a few moments ago. I…I don't know what came over me. Sorry."

Harry stared at her, and she turned back to look at him, her brown eyes pleading something with him. There was fear mirrored in those lush brown eyes, and Harry didn't miss it.

"What frightens you?" he asked softly.

Ginny didn't respond immediately; in fact, she watched Harry intently several moments before responding, and when she finally did, her voice shook slightly, as though she realized who she was talking to.

"You," she said, scooting a little closer to him. 

Confusion flashed across Harry's face.

"What?" 

"You," Ginny repeated softly. "I'm afraid…that something will happen…to you."

To his surprise, Ginny did not blush as she said this, but instead kept a straight face. 

"Don't worry about me," said Harry hastily. "It's not worth it. I'm always in danger. If you were to worry about me every time I was in danger, you'd be worrying every second of every day. I can—"

"I know you can say the words 'I can take care of myself,' Harry," Ginny interrupted. "But there's nothing behind those words. You can't stand alone, even though you've tried to so many times. In the end you'll either die or let someone help you."

Harry felt his face heat, but maintained control over himself.

"I can handle myself," he said, in a harsher tone than he'd meant, and Ginny instantly looked hurt. "I'm sorry," he whispered, taking her hand in his own without noticing what he was doing. "Please don't worry about me, Gin. I've lived this long on my own…"

"You don't think people have worried about you all this time?!" Ginny exploded, wrenching her hand free of his and backing away from him. "I don't know about most of the major people who knew your parents, but even I was worried about you before I knew you! We all knew you were sent to a Muggle home! Dumbledore and Hagrid and Professor McGonagall were probably worried more than anyone! And think of…think of Peter Pettigrew, your godfather, who was killed by Black…"

"Sirius didn't lay a finger on Pettigrew," Harry spat without thinking. Ginny frowned at him.

"What are you talking about?" she asked. 

Harry thought of saying "nothing," but decided against it.

"Pettigrew faked his bloody death," snapped Harry, "and got Sirius sent to Azkaban for doing nothing!"

"But Black was the secret keeper…"

"No he wasn't. He changed it to Pettigrew at the last moment. Who'd suspect the little runt to be the secret keeper, anyway? It wasn't like Pettigrew was the smartest or bravest person in the world. Why would James and Lily Potter choose him? The little rat sold them out. He'd been working with Voldemort the entire time. Then Sirius chased after him, and Pettigrew faked his death by making it look like Sirius killed him. He blew his own finger off.

"Wormtail was also an unregistered Animagus, so he was your family's rat for the past twelve years till he ran away 'cause Sirius found him. Sirius is innocent. Hermione, Ron, and I helped him escape in third year. Don't tell me I should feel sorry for Pettigrew, 'cause I don't. I'm not living with my godfather, Sirius, because of that worm."

Ginny stared at Harry with an open mouth. Harry hadn't meant to reveal all of that to her, but hadn't been able to stop. 

"It's the truth, Gin," said Harry softly. This time it was Ginny who laced her fingers in his own. Unfortunately, Ron and Hermione chose this exact time to appear a few feet away from them. 

"What're you two doing out here?" Ron demanded at once as he approached them. Harry watched his eyes drift slowly down to their hands, which were still entwined, and Harry and Ginny sprang apart. 

"Having a conversation," said Ginny easily. 

"Why did you miss Defense?" Ron asked, unsatisfied by their explanation.

"Is Defense already over?" Harry asked, trying to sound offhand. Ron nodded. "Wow! Time really flies!"

"Harry, what's going on…" Hermione started, but she abruptly fell silent. 

Harry stood up and glanced around. Light began fading away slowly, and black clouds were filling the sky. Rain began to drizzle slowly from the sky, and a cold chill was about them. From within the shadows near the castle, a dark form emerged, so dark that Harry could just barely make it out amid the shadows about it. He felt his insides go cold as he recognized it.

_The Reaper!_

"Damn!" Harry cursed loudly, grabbing Ginny's hand and motioning for Ron and Hermione to follow him. He darted off in the direction opposite of the Reaper, the only way they could escape. The route before them was not one Harry wanted to travel: The Forbidden Forest. 

Trees loomed around them, blackly silhouetted. Harry ran faster than he ever had, darting in and out of trees, hoping Ginny wouldn't hit one of the trees. Harry hadn't given them time to argue with him, nor would he have stopped even if they had told him to. The Reaper was still following them, its black form nothing more than a shadow against the ground. 

After a moment they stumbled into a clearing. Harry tripped over a root and stumbled down, dragging Ginny down with him. Ron and Hermione flew past them.

"Don't stop!" Harry called after them, frantically feeling through his pockets. "Damn! My wand's not with me! D'you know any powerful spells, powerful enough to kill a creature?"

"No," said Ginny. "So we don't have any defense?!"

Harry was about to answer no when a light flicked on within the depths of his mind: Why couldn't he at least attempt magic with no wand? "I think I have an idea. Just run when I tell you to, and don't stop for anything."

Ginny hesitated, then nodded. Harry jumped up, then pulled her up after him. Ron and Hermione had disappeared into the trees beyond them, opposite to where they had entered. Harry grabbed Ginny's hand, then walked forward to the other edge of the clearing. Moments later, the Reaper appeared at the edge of the clearing, near twenty yards away from them. 

"Run, Ginny, and don't look back," said Harry quietly. 

Ginny hesitated once more, then darted off behind him. Harry turned to the Reaper, which was still approaching slowly. Harry racked his brain…what was the spell Professor Tallow had used? The _Pyr_ Charm. Harry had not even attempted the charm, but was willing to give it a try.

"_Infernobolus_!" he shouted, raising his hand as he would a wand. To his great surprise, a ribbon of blue fire lanced out towards the Reaper. The Reaper jumped to the side, moving quicker than Harry had anticipated. Harry, getting used to controlling the fire, lanced it towards the Reaper once more. The Reaper dodged again, but the next time Harry hit it. It shrieked and flew backwards into the woods. Harry felt drained suddenly, like the magic was taking strength out of him. 

Moments later, an Urdai appeared. It shrieked and lunged at Harry in a fury, claws drawn. Harry was too quick, though. He darted to the side, then sent the ribbon of fire out at the creature. The Urdai shrieked in response as the fire ripped into it. It whirled around, and Harry felt claws ripping his shoulder. Harry cried out in anguish, then grabbed the Urdai's slimey head and sent the blue fire out into it. The Urdai disappeared to quickly, however, and left no trace of anything. 

Harry fell to his knees, then to his stomach, clutching his shoulder in pain. He tried to lift his head, but everything ached. Eventually he gave up and let his head fall onto a patch of grass. He knew he shouldn't fall asleep—the Reaper and Urdai would still be out—but he couldn't control his consciousness anymore, and drifted into a dreamless bliss.


	16. Skating

Chapter Sixteen

Skating

In Canada I could always find a smooth surface to skate on, mused Kirk Joseph sadly, pulling on an old pair of ice skates and tying the laces. _Smooth_. Not covered with snow like _this._ He was sitting in a soft mound of snow near the lake at Hogwarts, a small hockey stick and pair of hockey gloves next to him. Though goalie was his usual position, Kirk had decided to skate as a normal player. Defenseman, maybe. But never a forward. Forwards were evil.

After he finished tying the left skate, Kirk rose, grabbing his gloves and stick as he did so. He then dropped back down to his knees, hastily digging up snow with his bare hands until he came upon a small black object. _Ah, nice and cold. No bounce._ Kirk tossed the puck out onto the icy lake and slid his gloves on, leaving the stick on the ground for now. After putting his gloves on, he bent down and grabbed the stick. 

Kirk rose and slid silently across the lake until he reached the puck. He hit it with the blade of his stick towards the opposite end of the lake, and watched as it finally stopped upon hitting a small mound of snow. 

Kirk skated forward quickly, turning his right skate to stop and throwing up snow as he did so. He was now at the edge of the lake, where the puck was. He grabbed the black disk and tossed it back out onto the lake. Kneeling on the ice, he scooped several handfuls of snow into his hands until he finally had a three foot tall mound of snow built. _Ah. Goal._ He raced back to the other end of the ice, taking the puck with him as he glided along. He turned around a skated backwards a moment, then threw up more snow as he stopped and darted forward, dribbling the puck and talking to himself as he did so. 

"Joseph takes the puck down the rink," he said in an excited-announcer-like tone. "He crosses the center line, breaks out from the others! He takes the puck across the blue line, fakes left, right, shot! Scores!" Kirk raised his stick and hand skyward, skating around in a small circle. 

Kirk built the mound a little higher until he finally had a six foot tall mound. Then he skated back out a distance with the puck and stopped. He stopped the puck with his stick, then took a stance next to the puck and brought his stick up behind him. He brought the stick down at a speed so fast that the stick was hardly visible, and hit the puck. The puck zoomed across the ice, hovering a few inches from it, a black blur. Kirk didn't fully see it until it hit the mound of snow in the center. 

Sudden, soft clapping filled Kirk's ears. He jerked his head around to see a small, brown-haired girl standing a few feet away on the ice in her Hogwarts robes and tennis shoes. 

"Robbie," said Kirk with a sigh, "what're you doing here?" 

But whatever reason she came for, she obviously was in no hurry to let it out.

"It's cold," she said. "Why are you out here?" Her voice carried a bit of a worried tone, and Kirk grinned.

"I'm used to weather harsher than this," he said quietly. "Twenty below hockey games. It's, what, ten out here? C'mon, that's pathetic."

Robbie didn't smile at him as she usually did. Her face was expressionless for the most part, but there was still that bit of worry behind her carefully built mask.

"All right," said Kirk, skating slowly over to her like a child who was in trouble with his mum, "what'd I do this time?"

Robbie gave him a mocking look. 

"Then what's wrong?!" he demanded impatiently. 

"Harry Potter's missing," she said quietly. "Along with his friends Ron and Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger. They've been gone since late eleven days ago. No one was told at Hogwarts."

Kirk stared at Robbie hard, looking for a hint of laughter in her eyes, but there was none. Kirk's insides went cold. 

"And there's a demon on the grounds," Robbie continued, gesturing for him to skate forward, "so you should be inside."

"I've got my—"

"Wand?" Robbie held up a slender piece of wood. "I found it in your four-poster."

"You were in my four-poster?" Kirk asked in an expressionless tone. Robbie grinned and nodded. "Wh-what else did you find, prey tell."

"I was only looking for you!" Robbie replied defensively. "I saw your wand sitting on your bed."

Kirk nodded, giving her a bit of a glare. She tossed him his wand, which he tossed back.

"I've still got to practice," he said. "You just watch over me and make sure there's not any demons coming. Hey," he added suddenly, "d'you have a pair of skates?"

"Yep," said Robbie, and she withdrew a pair of black, ankle-cut skates. 

"Hey!" Kirk exclaimed. "Those're my goalie tacks!" 

"Hmm, they look more like skates to me," said Robbie, frowning thoughtfully. 

Kirk sighed loudly. "Purebloods," he muttered to himself, lifting his stick off the ice in exasperation. "Don't you know _anything_ about hockey?"

"Erm…not really," Robbie admitted, sitting down on the ice with a thump. "I still say it's cold out here."

Kirk frowned at her, but the frown was soon replaced by a smirk as he watched her rise to her knees after she'd put the skates on.

"You'd be better off"—Robbie stood and flew back down to the ice—"starting with these," said Kirk, grinning as he offered her his hand. She glared at him for not warning her sooner, but took the goalie tacks off nevertheless. Kirk took his own skates off and handed them to her, then put on his old goalie tacks. "Ah, the wonders of no ankle support," he said quietly, rising and skating in a small circle, as if getting the feel of the skates back. 

Robbie watched him curiously for a moment, then finally rose, dusted snow off herself, and tried to skate in a small circle. Kirk had to dive to catch her before she fell. 

Kirk was now grinning like an idiot.

"Don't you do anything but fly?" he said laughingly. She glared at him. "Where'd you put my wand?" 

Robbie motioned back towards the bank of the lake. "Over there."

Kirk nodded. "Wanna try again, do you?" he said as he watched her attempt to skate around in a circle once more, only to crash to the ice a moment later. "Need help?" The brown-haired girl shook her head fervently. 

"No," she said defiantly. Kirk shrugged, then skated to the edge of the lake and stopped there, hands on his hips. "What are you doing?" demanded Robbie immediately. 

"I'm doing nothing at the moment, but soon I'll be watching you as you try to skate and fail miserably," said Kirk with a grin. Robbie "grrrrrr"ed at him, then proceeded to make another attempt at skating in a circle. She fell to the ice once more, causing Kirk to laugh and clap sarcastically. A moment later he got a mouthful of snow from Robbie, which erased his grin and replaced it with a very disgruntled look.

  
Several hours later they lay next to each other on the icy surface of the lake, watching the snow fall from the sky. In Canada, Kirk had told Robbie, the winters had lasted nearly seven months, beginning in early October and ending around April or May. Snow everywhere, he had said with a sad look about him. Perfectly green hills during the summer—well, that was in some places anyhow. The cities were much cleaner as well. 

"Alaska's beautiful as well," he finished, gliding his hands across the ice. "For an American state, that is. Juneau was a nice place for fishing. Not very populated, but that makes it all the nicer and quieter. Fierce hockey games are played there."

A sudden rustling of bushes near the Forbidden Forest caught Kirk's eye. He nudged Robbie on the arm. Robbie glanced at him uncertainly, giving him a questioning glance. The rustling came again. Robbie slowly crawled to Kirk's wand and handed it to him. Kirk rose and clutched his wand tightly in his left hand. _What was that?_ Shadows played across the edge of the forest, teasing his mind into thinking something was out there. He gulped. What if something _was_? 

He slowly skated forward a bit, then pulled to a stop, peering around the forest edge. A shadow darted across, then was gone. Kirk's gray eyes were suddenly alert as ever, even more so than when he had been skating. Something was out there, watching his every move. Watching, waiting…waiting to strike when the time was right…and Kirk was defenseless—well, he had more defense than some, but still…he was only a first year…

The shadow darted forth once more, and this time Kirk was ready. He whispered a very ill-powered curse, and small blue sparks shot forth. But instead of just fading, they formed a ribbon. Kirk wielded the ribbon of blue sparks forward until it hit the moving shadow. A sharp cry rose in the night, a short staccato peel, then died away as quickly as it had come. Another scream followed moments later. Kirk brought forth his blue sparks again, and sent them whipping out as a whole towards the forest, hearing a few icy trees pop as he did so.

Shrieks filled the sky, and the shadow that had been creeping ever closer to the lake dissipated into a wisp of smoke with what looked like eyes and…and a large green snake coming from the mouth…a green skull…. The Dark Mark. Voldemort's sign of killing. But who this time? Kirk's mind went crazy, and he stood motionless, then was thrown to the ground with such force that he was nearly knocked unconscious. His mind went hazy as he searched his mouth for his tongue. _Thank God I didn't bite it off_, he thought bleakly, glancing around to see what had knocked him down. 

Kirk frowned. There was nothing around him, except the Dark Mark, which was now floating to the sky and hovered eerily above the Forbidden Forest. _Who though?!_

Then Kirk saw it. Black as death itself, a shadow was emerging from the forest ever so quickly; the quickness was uncharacteristic for a being of its size, for it was nearly seven feet tall. A glint of medal shown in the moonlight as it stalked forward, and Kirk knew suddenly what the thing wanted: Him. Kirk Joseph. It was out for blood. Perhaps just hungry for death, Kirk mused, then shook himself. _WHAT AM I THINKING?! RUN, GOD DAMN YOU!_

Kirk sprang to his feet a moment later, only to find the shadow gone. He was now face to face with Harry Potter. Kirk stood there for a moment, a confused look flashing across his face. Harry's face was worn and his eyes were tired. A red-haired girl was perched on his shoulders, holding a large black cloak around them. Behind Harry and the girl stood another seven foot tall being…. Another boy with a girl on his shoulders. Kirk scratched his head. 

"Inside," Harry choked out, "they're still out."

Kirk nodded, still unsure of the meaning of Harry's words. He took Harry's arm and guided them across the ice until he reached Robbie. 

"Take 'em inside," he whispered. "I'm going to get the other two."

Robbie nodded and led Harry and the girl towards the school. Kirk skated swiftly back to the other two, pocketing his wand now and grabbing the boy's arm. "Just glide along," Kirk whispered soothingly. He led them like he'd led Harry and the girl, then dropped the boy's arm as they reached the snowy ground. "Follow me," Kirk said, watching as another darker shadow appeared behind them. His insides went cold. This was the real thing that Harry had warned him of. 

"Quickly!" Kirk hissed, darting off in his skates. He had become quite good at running in them, so the snow was no problem for him. The red-haired boy was tired looking though, and with every step Kirk took, the boy slowed. "Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, _hurry!"_

The black shadow was closing in on them. Kirk told them frantically to hurry. Hogwarts was now only a mere yard away. Kirk darted forward, barged through the large oak doors, and shoved the boy and girl roughly in, closing the door tightly behind him. 

"Where now?" Kirk asked the boy. He dropped the girl from his shoulders and took her hand. 

"Dumbledore's office," he muttered as he darted down the corridor, the girl following after closely. 

Kirk stared after them for a moment, then darted off. The corridors were void with students, mainly because holidays had just started yesterday and most everyone had left despite the Christmas Ball—everyone was concerned for their children's lives, it appeared. After trailing them a moment, Kirk finally came to a stop as they did near a gargoyle. 

The brown-haired girl whispered something Kirk didn't catch, and the gargoyle sprang to life and jumped aside. The others darted in, Kirk following shortly after. They walked up a golden-rimmed staircase, then burst through a white door at the top, revealing a small office with several chairs, three of them occupied by Harry, the red-haired girl, and Robbie. The headmaster himself was in the chair across from his desk, leaning on the desk itself intently, watching Harry. 

Dumbledore was distracted by the other's sudden entrance, and beckoned them wordlessly to sit down. As Kirk sat down next to Robbie, he noticed for the first time that there were two other men in the room, one with sandy brown hair, the other with short black hair. Both wore looks of fury and worry mixed together. 

"Kirk Joseph, Robbie McKinnon," said Dumbledore, "this is Sirius Black and that is Remus Lupin." He gestured vaguely to the two men behind his desk. Robbie had gone pale as he'd said the first name. "Relax Miss McKinnon, Sirius is not guilty of murder. I see you already know that, Miss Weasley…?" 

Harry looked down at his feet. 

"It's all right, Harry," said Dumbledore, with a twinkle in his sparkling blue eyes. He had a hint of laughter in his voice when he added, "She would have found out now anyway, wouldn't she have?" Harry nodded mutely. "Now, before either of you"—he gestured to Sirius and Remus—"have a chance to argue with Harry over why he was outside, let's listen to Harry's story. I'd like to know what happened, if you would please, Harry."

Harry nodded, then took a deep breath. "I was outside with Ginny, talking, when Ron and Hermione came out. The sky started to go black with clouds, and a shadow appeared behind me and the others. I recognized it as the Reaper." The room went still. "I ran, and the others followed me. We ran until I tripped and fell, bringing Ginny down with me. Ron and Hermione disappeared on down the path, so I told Ginny to leave as well. She did. 

"Then I saw the Reaper appear at the edge of the clearing. I used the _Pyr_ Charm without my wand to summon some kind of magic within me. I felt the fire course through my body…something happened, something changed. Anyway, the fire surged into the Reaper after several shots, and it disappeared. Then an Urdai appeared, and ripped my shoulder apart." He gestured to a large hole in his shoulder where there was dried blood. He was about to continue when Remus stepped forward suddenly.

"Get him to the hospital wing immediately," he whispered intensely. "An Urdai's claws contain poison. At this very moment, you're being changed ever so slightly into an Urdai."

A flicker of recognition shown in Dumbledore's eyes, and an instant later Harry was dragged to the hospital wing by Sirius and Remus. 

"Miss Granger, perhaps you might tell me what happened to you," said Dumbledore softly. The brown-haired girl nodded. 

"After we left Harry, we stumbled a few paces more before stopping. Ginny appeared a moment later. We were utterly lost when we heard shrieks and cries from nearby. Blue fire was lighting the night sky, and I used _Locatius Magicus_ to find Harry. He was battered and torn, so we built a small icehouse nearby and put a charm on it so it could resist fire. I started a blue fire to warm Harry, and we took turns looking for help. The blizzard was too strong to navigate through, so we had to wait eleven days before we could find our way. 

"Of course, when we were near Hogwarts we met up with a pair of Urdais and a Reaper. Harry got the idea to impersonate the Reapers to leave, and we succeeded, though I'm not quite sure how."

There was a long pause after she finished her story. Dumbledore looked thoughtful. 

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Weasley, is Hermione's story correct?" he asked. 

"Yes," said the red-haired girl, echoed by the red-haired boy a moment later. Dumbledore nodded. "Ginny, Ron, Hermione, you can go to the hospital wing now." The three of them stood and left the room, then Dumbledore turned to Kirk and Robbie. "Mr. Joseph, Miss McKinnon. However fortunate it is you were out there, do not go out again."

Kirk and Robbie nodded. 

"Go to the hospital wing just in case," said Dumbledore. 

They nodded again, then rose and walked out of the door and down the staircase. Robbie turned to Kirk with fear in her eyes.

"We're involved now, aren't we?" she asked, her voice shaking noticeably. 

"Yes, I suppose we are," said Kirk. She started to shake, and he took her in his arms, hugging her tightly. "But yeh know what?" he asked as he pulled off and looked at her. "We're in this together."

"Always and forever, Kirk Joseph."


	17. The Christmas Ball

I know this took forever but the next one will take twice as long if nothing changes within the next week. I've got a C in history and my parents said they'd ground me from the computer if I did. So it'll be at least four weeks if not nine before I can write again. I'm sorry! It's not my fault! It's my history teacher! I swear!

Chapter Seventeen

The Christmas Ball

"No, seriously, Madam Pomfrey, I'm fine! Really!"

"Are you sure, boy? If it isn't one thing, it's another with you—"

"Trust me, I'm fine. See? I can stand up and walk and everything."

"Don't forget to take your medicine, Potter, and check back with me in two days just before the ball."

"Of course, ma'am," said Harry, leaving the hospital wing finally. It had been two weeks since he'd seen the corridors and Hogwarts, and he was beginning to wonder if he would know the way back to Gryffindor tower by the time he convinced Madam Pomfrey he was well enough to leave. 

Harry's wound hadn't been very serious—at least not in Harry's opinion. Madam Pomfrey, however, had given him several colorful and horrible-tasting potions, as well as put some red substance on the hole in his arm that burned like fire. Despite being locked away from everyone, and despite hating to admit it, Harry actually kind of found it nice to relax for a change. Professor Dumbledore had stopped by at one point and told him that he and the others weren't required to do their homework from holiday. Dumbledore had had a long talk with Harry about what had happened as well. 

Harry walked down the corridors until he finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. The Fat Lady smiled warmly down at him.

"Been a while since I've seen you around," she said. "Did anyone tell you the password?"

Harry frowned. Had the password been changed? 

"It's a new password, dear," said the Fat Lady, seemingly reading his thoughts. 

Just as Harry was about to try and find a Gryffindor somewhere, the portrait hole swung open, revealing Hermione and Ron, apparently arguing with one another. They both walked right on by Harry without even taking note to him standing there. Hermione absentmindedly reached out and closed the portrait hole behind them.

"Well," said Harry, "guess some people don't even notice their best friend when he's been gone for two weeks…"

Ron and Hermione stopped abruptly at hearing his voice, then slowly spun around. Both stared blankly at the black-haired boy, then with a happy squeal, Hermione rushed over and hugged Harry tightly. Ron grinned at him from behind Hermione's back.

"Good to see you, mate," said Ron as Hermione finally pulled off and returned to Ron's side. 

"Yeah, it's good to see you too," said Harry, rubbing his neck where Hermione had hugged him. "What were you guys arguing abou—"

"Nothing, Harry," said Ron. Hermione nudged him hard in the ribs, and he added hastily, "We'll tell you later. Why'd Madam Pomfrey keep you so long, anyway?"

"Something about…dangerous poison, like Remus said," Harry answered quietly, shrugging. "She gave me tons of medicine and told me to check back in two days."

"She's just worried about you, Harry," said Hermione. "Everyone has been lately, even Professor Dumbledore. They were all afraid the medicine Snape made for you—"

"Snape made that?!" spat Harry angrily. "No wonder it tasted so bad! He probably poisoned it!"

"Even Snape wouldn't do that under Dumbledore's nose, Harry, and you should well know that by now," said Hermione indignantly. "As I was saying, everyone thought the medicine might not work, and that you would become an Urdai and they would be forced to either kill you or put you in a confined place…like Azkaban…."

"Yeah, Harry," said Ron suddenly, "as much as I hate to admit it, Hermi's right this time. You were lucky. We all were. Let's head down for breakfast." And the trio proceeded to the Great Hall. "Everyone's gone home for holidays even though the ball's in a few days. Parents are worried about their kids. All the Slytherins are gone, thank God, and there're only two Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff. We outnumber them by far—Fred, George, Ginny, me, Hermi, you, and the two first years that more or less saved our lives two weeks ago. Robbie McKinnon and Kirk Joseph, I think."

"McKinnon?" Harry repeated, suddenly remembering something: Back before Harry's first year, when Hagrid had just appeared at the small cottage in the middle of the sea to fetch Harry when he was with the Dursleys, Hagrid had told him something about the McKinnons. Wasn't it the McKinnons that had been murdered by Lord Voldemort?

"Yeah, I believe it's McKinnon," Ron responded, getting an affirmative nod from Hermione a moment later. "What, you know the name?"

Harry shook his head doubtfully. There had to be more than one set of wizarding McKinnons in Great Britain…

"Nah, never mind," he said after a moment. They walked into the Great Hall, and Harry found Ron's statement true: There were only eight other students present in the Great Hall, and all were sitting at the same table. It appeared a truce had been negotiated by the lonely Hufflepuff and Ravenclaws. Harry's mind briefly went into its dreamy state as he saw that Cho Chang was among the two Ravenclaws left. Ron waved a hand in front of Harry's face impatiently. 

"Are we going to eat or stare at Cho during breakfast, Harry?" Ron asked with a grin and chuckle. Harry blushed deep red, then headed on down to the table and sat down next to Hermione and Ginny. 

"Morning, Gin," said Harry as he started eating. 

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, hugging him tightly. "I was so worried! Everyone was!"

"So I've heard," said Harry with a half-grin. "By the way, what's the new password to get into the common room?"

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione hit him in the ribs once more. 

"We'll tell you later," she said, giving Cho and the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff a meaningful glance that Ron didn't miss. Ron looked sheepishly at his breakfast, then began eating without further comment.

The staff table itself was nearly void of teachers; Hagrid was missing, as well as Professors McGonagall and Sprout. Tiny Professor Flitwick remained there, however, along with Snape (who looked even more gruesome than usual), Professor Trelawney, and the band professors, who both looked drained. Professor Tallow was missing as well, Harry noticed suddenly.

Malfoy's words suddenly echoed in the back of his head, taunting him: _"And you better watch yourself, Tallow—not many people know what you used to be."_

Ron pulled Harry aside as they neared the portrait hole after breakfast, letting Hermione, Ginny, and the others go on in ahead of them. Harry gave Ron a curious glance as Ron led him away from the Fat Lady and down a deserted hall.

"All right, here's what Hermione's put me up to telling you," said Ron with a sigh. "First, Hermi and me are going to the Christmas Ball together."

"About time you two realized you both love each other," said Harry with a big grin. 

"Erm…not quite," responded Ron, beginning to pace up and down in front of Harry. He did, however, blush a deep shade of red as Harry had stated his belief that the pair were madly in love. "But we are going together. And…Hermi wants you to ask Ginny to the ball. But I want you to ask Cho or somebody else 'cause Ginny's my little sister, Harry!"

Ron said this all rather quickly, so Harry had to think the other's words over before responding intelligibly. Finally everything the red-head had said hit Harry, and the realization caused him to blush.

"Er…I'll, um, have to think about it, Ron," stammered Harry. He had, in truth and before realizing Cho was here, been thinking of asking Ginny to the ball, but now that he knew Cho _was_ here…. "I think I'll ask Cho first, and if she says no…"

"Don't worry, Harry!" said Ron, clapping a hand on Harry's back as he came to a halt in his pacing. "Cho'll say yes! You could probably get anyone to go with you! Well, I'll see you later! Oh yes, and the password's Leaping Lizards. Don't ask," he added, seeing Harry's expression and stifling a laugh, "I think the Fat Lady thought it'd cheer you up."

"Well, it gave me a laugh, anyhow," said Harry as Ron disappeared down the corridor. "Now," he murmured quietly to himself, "to find Cho."

Immediately the black-haired boy headed in the Great Hall's direction, hoping Cho would still be eating breakfast. He had shoved the sadness of Cedric's death aside, at least for now, and it had been replaced by a sudden boyish hope that Cho would first speak to him, and then maybe, just maybe, go to the ball with him. 

Quite suddenly, and as Harry neared the Great Hall, Peeves the Poltergeist swooped down and dropped a rather large snowball on Harry's head. Harry continued walking, but turned his head to yell angrily at Peeves, who cackled gleefully. 

Before Harry could get his head turned back around, he ran straight into someone. It was only as he apologized and offered the black-haired girl he'd knocked down his hand that he realized this was the person he was looking for. 

Cho took his hand and he managed to regain himself just enough to help her to her feet and grin stupidly at her. 

"Hello Harry!" said Cho, rather happily. "How are you? Feeling better after that encounter with the Urdai?"

"Er—yes, I'm feeling fine now," said Harry shakily. 

"That's good. Well, I'm off to do some of my homework, Harry, so I'll talk to you later."

"Actually," said Harry as Cho walked by him. She came to a halt and turned to face him. "I was wondering if you'd like to go to the…the ball with…me?" Harry blushed as he said this, but managed to keep his face straight and let a small, hopeful smile appear on his lips as he awaited the other's answer. 

To his great surprise, Cho smiled back. 

"Sure, Harry, I'd be glad to go with you," she said. "I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall at seven o'clock. See you then."

And then she turned and left, waving and grinning rather seductively over her shoulder at him. Harry could only goggle after her, thinking one thing: I've got to be the luckiest boy in the world.

As he finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, he'd managed to wipe the dopey grin off his face and recompose himself to look fairly decent. It hadn't been as hard as he'd expected, actually, and now he was glad he had asked Cho. 

"You look happy, dear," said the Fat Lady, smiling down at him. "Did your friends tell you the password?"

Harry nodded.

"Leaping Lizards," he said. The Fat Lady grinned at him once more, then swung open. Harry closed the portrait as he walked in.

In the common room Hermione and Ron were locked in a battle of chess, while Fred coached Hermione and George coached Ron. Ginny was watching with a grin on her face. Harry walked over to where everyone was gathered and glanced at them. 

"Hey Harry," everyone said in turn to him as he sat down next to Ginny. 

Hermione, surprisingly, was doing very well. Every time Ron made a move, Hermione would counter it. The match went on for hours, until finally Fred and George grew bored of sitting around and decided to go exploring the castle. Ginny and Harry, however, still watched with interest. 

"So Harry, how'd it go with Cho?" Ron asked without taking his eyes from the board.

"Cho?" Hermione said, frowning suddenly as she glanced from a sheepish Harry to a nonchalant Ron. 

"She…er…we're going together, yes," said Harry, choosing the easier path—ignoring Hermione's comment. 

_"RONALD WEASLEY!"_ hissed Hermione angrily, batting the chess pieces away. A few of them went screaming into the roaring fire, causing Harry to have to stifle his laughter. _"I cannot believe you did that! You promised me you wouldn't!" _

Ron looked a bit downcast. Hermione grabbed him by the ear and pulled him off to a corner, where Harry and Ginny heard bits of yelling from Hermione, and feeble inaudible answers from Ron. 

"So…" said Ginny, glancing down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap. "I hope Cho and you have a nice time."

"Thanks," Harry whispered back. "Who are you going with?"

"Kirk Joseph," said Ginny. "He came up with a plan to get he and Robbie into the ball even though they're first years, and I offered to help him."

Harry nodded, then cringed as Hermione dragged Ron up the steps to the girls' dorm. Strangled cries of "help" followed them for some time, and then silence. A few minutes later, Ron was shoved back down the stairs, his hair suddenly a brilliant color of pink with bows in it, and his fingernails painted bright, glittery yellow. He also had pink lipstick on, and his robes were pink too. 

Harry tried his best to stifle his laughter, but he failed miserably and ended up falling off the couch, clutching his side he was laughing so hard. 

"Well…" said Ron. "Missed the point again…dunno what I did…. Harry, I'm going to…get this stuff off me…see you in a while…"

Harry managed to wave good-bye to his friend as the currently pink-haired boy trudged up to the boys' dorm, muttering unintelligibly to himself. 

The days following Hermione's explosion passed uneventfully. It had taken Ron relentless Muggle-style scrubbing using some soap Harry had to get the magical makeup off. Hermione continued to huff for the first day, then became much cooler towards Ron. Harry guessed she figured that if the two of them had to go to the ball together, then they had better be on speaking terms. 

Last year for the ball, Dumbledore had hired a wizarding band to play, but this year, since there were so few people attending, he had decided to play music over a wizarding radio. 

Finally Christmas Eve came, the night before Christmas, presents, and…the ball. Even Harry was beginning to become nervous this time; he had no idea if he could dance well enough. Sure, the Yule Ball last year had been easy enough, but he didn't want Cho to leave when the ball was less than halfway over like Parvati Patil had last year. 

Ginny had become much quieter around Harry, and Harry secretly felt sorry for her, though he couldn't quite be sure why. Ginny _had_ most likely offered to aid in Kirk's plan _before_ Harry had asked Cho to go to the ball. If she had wanted to go with him, then would she have been so quick to help Kirk? Harry didn't know, and it troubled him constantly. 

Hagrid still hadn't reappeared at Hogwarts, nor had Professor Tallow. Professor McGonagall was back, though, and now Snape was gone. Harry was troubled as well by Tallow's disappearance. Surely the kind professor hadn't joined Voldemort? Harry had always liked Tallow—he seemed friendly enough. Malfoy's words had haunted him since he'd noticed that the professor was gone. 

Harry sat in the common room in front of the fire, alone with his thoughts. It was ten o'clock in the evening by now, so everyone was asleep but him. He just sat, thinking about tomorrow night. In the end, he decided to let everything play itself out, and to trust that it would all end okay. 

He was rising and had made it to the stairs to the dorm when a thought hit him like he'd just fallen from his broomstick while flying thirty feet in the air: Seamus's parents were dead. So where had he gone during holidays? 

"Great," Harry muttered to himself sleepily, "another problem to think about."

He woke the next morning to a small pile of presents at his feet. Ron stirred in the four-poster next to him as Harry began to carefully unwrap Sirius's thin present. Harry's eyes widened as he saw a blank piece of parchment, and he immediately grabbed his wand and whispered, while tapping the parchment, _"I solemnly swear I am up to no good!"_

_(A/N: Sorry if Harry got the map back last year, but I read through Goblet of Fire and didn't find anything about Harry getting the Marauder's Map back. If he did get it back, sorry, and I'll correct the mistake as soon as possible if you'll just point out the spot Harry gets it back in your review. Thanks)_

Words began forming on the parchment, written in a messy scroll Harry recognized easily.

"Mr. Padfoot would like to present this map to Mr. Prongs Jr., who lost it last year after a certain insane professor took it. Merry Christmas, Prongs. By the way, Moony also helped me fix a few things on it that have changed. Hope you like it. And this also gives you rights to your father's holy nickname, Prongs. Hope you like it, Prongs!"

Harry grinned. The Marauder's Map that he'd given to whom he thought was Mad-Eye Moody was finally back in his possession after being gone for so long. 

Harry grabbed another package; Mrs. Weasley's emerald sweater with a lion and a small "H" on it. Harry grinned, then tucked it away in his trunk. Hermione bought him a set of emerald and crimson pajamas, which caused him to blush in thinking Ron had told her about his lack of pajamas. Ron's present was a small assortment of Muggle candy—things such as Three Musketeers' bars, Reese's Sticks, and many others, along with butterbeer in old-fashioned bottles which said "Guaranteed warm, frothy taste forever more, or you're money back!" 

Hagrid bought him a set of quills and a fascinating wizard-style gold pocket watch that had various planets and moons for numbers. Along with it was a guide on how to read the watch, which was interesting in itself. 

Still there were two presents remaining, and Harry couldn't figure out who could have sent them. Ron, meanwhile, was thanking Harry for the Muggle coins and various objects Harry had gotten him, which included pencils, paper, and a calculator, though it had stopped working inside Hogwarts when Harry had brought it in. He'd stolen most of the items from either Dudley or Uncle Vernon and then snuck them out of the house.

Harry unwrapped the first gift, which was in a small white box. He pulled the box open, and found a folded blue shirt within it. He unfolded the blue shirt to see that it was somewhat old, with a few holes and black covering parts of it. The shirt was blue everywhere except for the shoulder area, which was a beige color. A leaf was in the center of the front, which was white with little blue spots for the veins of it. The words "TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS" were scrolled across it, and a note was pinned to it. 

Harry, 

You showed some interest in hockey, so I had my dad send me an old Leafs jersey for you. Hope you like it.

Kirk

Harry grinned as he folded the jersey and placed it in his trunk. He was thankful he had bought Kirk a present; a rare phoenix feather quill he'd found at Mrs. Figg's house when Dudley's birthday outing had taken place. Mrs. Figg, Harry had discovered, was a witch herself. It was much more fun and interesting staying at her house knowing that fact. 

Harry opened the next present, which was smaller and wrapped in brilliant gold wrapping paper. He opened it, revealing a small box. He took the box in his hands and carefully pried it open. A small quill was in it, with a golden feather attached to it. A note was folded up in the corner of the box, and Harry picked it up as he examined the quill, trying to think of what kind of bird it came from. He unfolded the note, then read it carefully, glancing at the quill every so often.

Dear Harry,

This isn't much, I know, but I wanted to give you something for Christmas, so I thought I may as well. The quill's feather is from a Zensonin, a brilliant black duck that has one golden feather on it. They're supposed to bring the bearer good luck. Hope it brings luck to you!

Ginny

Harry stared at the gold feather a moment longer, then pulled out Kirk's jersey and placed the quill within its folds, then packed it back in the trunk. He was once again glad he'd bought Ginny a little something too, even though it was nothing more than a book about Song Charms he'd found in Hogsmeade. 

"Ready for breakfast yet, Harry?" called Ron from across the room. 

"Yeah—just a minute—I've got to get dressed." 

Harry pulled Mrs. Weasley's sweater out of his trunk and pulled it over his head, then tried to smooth his black hair unsuccessfully. He gave up and climbed out of his four-poster, then pulled on a pair of blue jeans Mrs. Figg had conjured for him during the summer. 

"Lookin' good, mate!" said Ron happily as Harry climbed out of bed and saw Ron, decked out in his maroon Mrs. Weasley sweater. 

"You too," said Harry. "C'mon, I'm starving, let's get some breakfast."

Ron nodded happily, then bounded down the stairs with Harry trailing behind, grinning after his best friend's happy figure. 

"All right, Harry, face it: Your hair won't go down," said Kirk for the millionth time, "so stop smoothing it already!"

Kirk had appeared in the fifth years' dorm to get ready for the ball so he wouldn't be alone. Harry and Ron had also offered to let him sleep in their dorm, but he had declined with a devious look on his face. 

Kirk now stood in the bathroom in his orange and black Quidditch robes, combing his hair with a Muggle comb. Ron was in a set of forest-y brown and green robes, and Harry had his usual emerald dress robes on. Harry was now more nervous than he had ever been. Even more so than he was about to be sorted when he was a first year. 

And he had been very, very, _very_ nervous then.

"You'll do fine," said Ron, also for the millionth time. "If anyone's got anything to worry about, it's Kirk here with his little trick he's pulling."

Kirk had related to them what he and Robbie were planning on doing to get to dance with each other the entire time, and Ron was right: It _was_ a risky plan. But Harry doubted the teachers would notice the two first years, as Kirk was nearly as tall as any of them…but Kirk's orange robes just gave everything away….

"Yeah, you're right," said Harry, grinning at Kirk. "But have a good time alone with Robbie in detention, would you?"

Kirk nodded happily. Harry tried to smooth his hair once more, but it sprang back up in its usual messy self. 

"Your…hair…won't…go…down…" said Kirk slowly, so that even if Harry hadn't been listening the hundred other times he'd said that same phrase, he would've still been quite annoyed with himself. 

"I know, but I figure what the hell," said Harry, shrugging. He checked his wristwatch, which showed him it was ten till seven. "Shoot! We're about to be late, guys, we better get going!" he said, rushing out of the bathroom and towards the stairs. 

"Coming, coming, coming," said Kirk, throwing his hands up and muttering something like, "Teenagers."

Ron followed Kirk, and Kirk followed Harry. Harry only stopped for a moment in the common room to bid his friends farewell, and that he would see them at the ball. He didn't notice the girls' dress robes at all in his rush to get to Cho, but did smile at each in turn. 

He skidded to a halt at the Great Hall, where he saw the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen standing there, her long black hair trailing down her back. Crimson red dress robes tightly fit the girl's form, and Harry, though he thought it odd, didn't lose his senses over Cho Chang's beauty for once. He shook himself, then approached her cautiously, as if she were a wild animal. 

He extended his hand upon reaching her. 

"Shall we enter, my lady?" Harry asked, trying to mock a proper tone. Cho laughed gaily, telling him he succeeded, and they entered the Great Hall, where music was yet to play. They were the first to arrive. 

The setup was the same as last year, only with fewer tables. Harry pulled Cho's chair out for her, and she smiled thankfully at him. Harry took his own seat, and they waited until Ron and Hermione appeared. Hermione's hair was once more in its elegant bun, and her robes were pure white. Ron had a goofy grin on his face, and they sat down fairly close to Harry and Cho. 

Soon, Ginny and Kirk appeared as well, and sat down at their own table. Harry found himself goggling at Ginny, her beautiful red hair, her moonlight silvery robes shining in the moonlight, which shown through the Great Hall's ceiling. 

Dumbledore walked out from where he'd been seemingly sitting at the staff table. 

"Just do the same thing you did last year," he said, "to order your food. After we've eaten, the ball will proceed."

Harry ordered his food once more by telling the plate before him what he wanted. He smiled to himself as he began eating, cheerfully talking to Cho whenever she asked him something. 

After they finished, the tables cleared and the lights dimmed. Harry took Cho's hand in his own. 

"Would you care to dance?" he asked. Cho nodded with a smile on her face, and they began to dance to the slow music, which Harry was thankful for, as he didn't quite trust himself to dance to the songs he'd seen people dance to last year. 

Cho's hands were around Harry's neck, and Harry's were around her waist. They looked very comfortable in the position, even though the music that was playing was fast. Kirk watched them from where he was sitting next to Robbie with a worried expression. 

"There's something wrong with that scene," Robbie whispered to him. 

"Tell me about it," Kirk responded, taking Robbie's hand in his and rising. "I think we'd better play matchmaker, Robbie. Wanna give me a hand?"

A mischievous grin appeared on the girl's face. 

"Of course," she said. "What do I do?"

Harry didn't know whether he was in heaven or hell. Heaven was his first thought, as his arms were wrapped around Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw he'd longed to hold for so long. Yes, it was nice to finally have his chance. 

But if heaven was anything like this, he'd just assume to stay here. Every time Cho and he would spin slowly, he would glimpse Ginny's saddened form, sitting alone. So if heaven meant seeing the people who got hell, he'd stay here. Ginny's hell didn't appear to appealing.

So Harry tried to concentrate on Cho, and not the girl who looked so sad. As Ginny disappeared from view, Harry felt Cho's head on his shoulder, resting quietly there. Harry leaned his head slightly on hers, and they stayed that way until Ginny came into view once more. She was dancing with Kirk, but looking straight into Harry's eyes. 

A quiet peck came on Harry's shoulder and he glanced over to see Robbie standing there, smiling. 

"Care to dance, Harry?" she asked. 

"Sure," said Cho, "I want to rest a moment anyway."

Harry shrugged his indifference, then took Robbie in his arms.

"You like Ginny." Robbie's sentence wasn't a question; it was a statement of truth. "And don't deny it, Harry, 'cause I've seen you look at her, the way you do. It's the same way I look at Kirk, and the way he looks at me. Just admit it to yourself, then ask her to dance. Kirk and I will keep Cho occupied, and tell her what you feel for Ginny if you'll give us permission."

Harry stared at Robbie, mouthing soundlessly like a goldfish. She'd hit the nail on the head with her last statement.

"Please, Harry," said Robbie, looking him in the eye. "Just ask Ginny to dance, and then I'll talk to you again, and we'll see what you're thinking." Harry nodded somewhat fearfully, then Robbie released her grip around his neck and pushed him gently towards where Ginny stood. 

Harry stumbled awkwardly, tripping over the hem of his robes. He regained his footing, though, and walked somewhat calmly over to Ginny, and offered his hand.

"D'you…d'you want to dance?" he asked quietly. Ginny took his hand in hers, and he pulled her close. She placed her arms around her neck, and Harry put his hands on her waist. A slow song started up again, something Harry was once more thankful for. 

As the song continued, Ginny edged closer, and Harry found himself doing the same, until her head was on his chest. His arms were now wrapped tightly around her waist, and his chin rested on her hair. 

_Now I'm the luckiest boy alive,_ said a voice in the back of Harry's mind, which caused him to smile into space, thanking someone for letting him be a normal boy for once in the fifteen years he'd spent on this earth. 

The song ended, but they continued dancing, and in fact didn't stop until Dumbledore announced the ball was over, and told everyone to go back to their common rooms. Harry pulled back from Ginny and looked at her, into her deep brown eyes, then took her hand in his and they walked away towards the Gryffindor tower. 

They didn't stop holding hands until they reached their separate ways to the dorms. 

"G'night, Ginny," Harry whispered. 

"'Night, Harry," said Ginny, equally quiet. 

Harry then turned and headed up to his dorm, where he fell into bed and fell asleep without even taking his dress robes off. 


	18. The Legend of the Urdai

****

Well. I'm back on weekends. I hope this is posted on the weekend of the thirtieth, but I'm not sure. I'll try my hardest to write on notebook paper during the week and posting on the weekends. I promise. On with the story!

Chapter Eighteen

Legend of the Urdai

__

"JAMES POTTER!" shrieked Professor McGonagall, her finger pointing accusingly towards the black haired boy in the back of her classroom, who smiled innocently back.

"Yes, Professor?" he asked calmly.

"What did you do to Mrs. Norris?!" fumed the professor, a flaring Irish accent showing.

James shrugged. He was about to respond when Sirius Black piped in, "Well, I personally think the cat looks much_ better in rainbow color than just orange."_

"I assume you helped in this scheme, Black?"

"I wouldn't dare think otherwise, my dear professor," said Sirius happily. 

Professor McGonagall sighed furiously. 

"In my office, NOW_!" she barked. James and Sirius slid from their chairs and towards the back of the room, then into McGonagall's now-cozy office. A small fire was burning in the fireplace, and shadows danced merrily about the room. _

James slipped into a chair, and Sirius in the one next to his. 

"Wonder how much detention that'll earn us?" Sirius mused thoughtfully, scratching his chin. "We must've broken a record, Jamsie—first day at Hogwarts and we're already in McGonagall's office. Not even my dad got in this quick, and he's supposed to be the master of mischief!"

James grinned. "I reckon a couple days at most. Anyway," he shrugged sardonically, "I agree with you—Mrs. Norris does_ look better with seven colors all across her."_

They both laughed until the door burst open and McGonagall came haughtily in. She took a seat behind her desk, facing the two eleven year olds.

"Never in my life," she said, fighting back what appeared to be a smile, "have I had two boys get detention on the first day of Hogwarts. You should be ashamed of yourselves!"

"Ashamed?!" Sirius looked as though being ashamed of getting in trouble was a crime. "M'dear, as you said, you've never had a pair of troublemakers like us—we set a record! Do we get to be in Hogwarts, A History_?"_

McGonagall glared him into silence. 

"You detention will be tomorrow in the Forbidden Forest, Potter, Black," she said calmly. "Do_ try and stay out of too much trouble! You may go."_

Grinning to themselves, James and Sirius bounded out the door to find Remus waiting for them. 

"What'd she give you?" Remus asked. 

"Detention tomorrow night," said James happily. 

"And you're proud of yourselves?" 

"Why wouldn't we be, Remus?" said Sirius easily. "She said she'd put us in Hogwarts, A History_ if we kept it up!"_

"Yeah, right," Remus muttered. "Though I reckon you'll get in that book some way or another…"

The three boys laughed, then the scene swirled from Harry's mind, though he didn't wake.

Harry woke the next morning, not remembering his dream once more, and altogether very confused. Ron was still snoring in the bed next to his, so he quietly changed robes, then crept from the dorm. He was almost to the door when—

"Harry, wait up," Ron muttered sleepily. 

Harry stopped at the door, expecting to hear Ron's accusations of his liking Ginny come next, but none did. Only thumps and noises could be heard from within the red-head's four-poster, until finally Ron stumbled out. 

"Damned house-elves," he said crossly, "I thought they did whatever you wanted them to. Well, I WANT A TALLER FOUR-POSTER!" 

Harry grinned. "Maybe they'll shrink you instead."

Ron thought for a moment of a good comeback, decided nothing was appropriate, and shut up.

"Have fun last night?" he asked instead.

Harry waited a moment before answering, and when he did, he chose his words very carefully as to not set Ron off.

"Yeah, I suppose I did." _Other than the fact that I completely left without saying anything to Cho, who _was_ my date. And, oh yeah, I like your little sister. No big deal, right?_ "How'd it go with you and Hermi?"

Ron shrugged. 

"We didn't argue, if that's what you mean," he said. "It was a fairly uneventful night from my end."

Harry grinned. "So, have you realized you're madly in love with Hermione yet, or do you still need an awakening?"

Ron blushed deep red from his ears to his nose. 

"Erm…I think I'll go with B."

"You still need an awakening?"

"Yes." Ron nodded fervently. "Anyway, how was Cho?"

"She's nice, but all she talks about is her looks. Even in Quidditch she was complaining about the color of Ravenclaw's robes."

"That bad, huh?"

Harry paused for a moment, not wanting to say anything more about Cho, then grinned. "Yeah, that bad."

"Well," said Ron, "we'll stomp 'em next time in Quidditch to take your mind off things."

Harry was slightly taken aback with Ron's comment; hadn't it been Ron who had insisted upon him asking Cho to the dance in the first place? 

"C'mon, I'm so hungry I could eat…well, I could eat anything that didn't eat me first, you might say," said Ron with a grin. He walked off towards the door, opened it, and walked out of the dorm, leaving Harry behind, scratching his head.

Harry was about to follow Ron when a loud shout sounded from outside. 

"What the—"

He stumbled over to the window and peered out to see what appeared to be no fewer than several hundred Ministry wizards dressed in green body suits and running around five large cages near Hagrid's cabin._ Oh dear, what's he gotten himself into this time?_ Harry wondered, watching numerous jets of light shoot out of the Ministry wizards' wands. 

"Harry, you coming?" Ron asked from the doorway, having reappeared upon noticing Harry's absence.

"Get a load of this," Harry muttered, motioning for Ron to come over to the window. More shrieks and cries were ringing out all across the grounds. 

"What the hell are those things?" Ron asked incredulously. Giant creatures with a shaggy, golden mane around a yellow-eyed lion's head, a large white body, and a long tail with spikes jetting out of it. 

"Chimaera," Harry whispered. 

"What's that?" 

"Head of a lion, body of a goat, and tail of a dragon; they're Chimaera. They're one of the more ferocious species of creatures."

"How d'you know that?" Ron whispered back, his eyes still wide as Bludgers. 

"Read it over summer when I was bored at the Dursleys," said Harry. "C'mon, let's go down there…"

"What for?! The Ministry'll take care of those things!" Ron said, a terrified expression crossing his face. 

"I want a closer look."

"Why?!"

Harry shrugged. "Let's just go. We haven't seen Hagrid at all this year anyway."

"Er—good point, actually." Ron sighed. "Fine, but I'm taking my wand."

Harry, too, grabbed his wand as they walked out of the dorm and headed for the entrance hall. They walked in silence for the most part until they were outside, where a fresh, December breeze was blowing across the grounds. Harry breathed in deeply, and smelled the scent of blood nearby. The Chimaera had been killing something…

"Harry! Ron! Good ter see yeh!" beamed Hagrid as they reached the cabin. The cages were several hundred yards away from here, so Ron felt somewhat safe. "I was jus' gonna go up ter the castle an' invite yeh down to see 'em. Aren't they beautiful?"

"Beauty's not the word I would use—" started Ron, but Harry elbowed him sharply in the ribs. 

"Where'd you find those things, Hagrid?" he asked, eyeing the thrashing Chimaera, who obviously didn't enjoy being caged. 

"I found 'em in southern Ireland when I went there fer a couple o' days," said Hagrid, still grinning. "Reported it to the Ministry at once, o' course. Then when I got back here, they were prowlin' around in the Forbidden Forest—that's where I found 'em last. The Ministry sent one hundred fifty officials to take care of 'em. Your brother's here, Ron."

"Charlie?" Ron asked. Hagrid nodded. 

"Got a passion fer animals," he said happily. "Always liked him durin' his days at Hogwarts."

"Can we get any closer, Hagrid?" Harry asked somewhat eagerly. 

"Better wait till they're all stunned," said Hagrid. "Then I'll let yeh get up a little closer to 'em."

Suddenly a Ministry wizard ran up to the trio, panting. It took Harry a moment to recognize Ron's brother again, Charlie. 

"Good to see you, Harry, Ron," said Charlie breathlessly. "They're quite a handful, those Chimaera. Two of them already slaughtered thirty of our officials. The female on the left—yeah, that's her—she's particularly restless. Won't let us get within thirty feet of her. We've had to do just about everything to contain them."

"ONE, TWO, THREE!" shouted one of the wizards, followed by all of them shouting, "_STUPEFY!"_ Red jets shot out of each of the one hundred twenty wands and into two of the Chimaera. Both fell to the ground with a thud that reverberated across the grounds. 

"It's all very odd how they turned up," Charlie continued, surveying the scene before him. "They were in southern Ireland one day, and the next they're in Britain. Must've tracked you, Hagrid, though I don't see how they could have, as you're quite the expert with animals…odd, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," said Hagrid after a moment. "I didn' see or hear anything on me way back…"

"Well, I guess it's just one of the many mysteries about creatures like Chimaera, Nundu, dragons, Urdai…there's so many cross-bred animals that we can't tell one from another anymore."

"Urdai?" Harry said suddenly. "Urdai were cross-bred?"

"Yes, that's what we think, anyhow," said Charlie. "Haven't you heard the legend?"

Ron and Harry shook their heads. 

"Well, I'm no expert at remembering, so if you want to hear it, I'd ask Dumbledore if I were you," said Charlie. "He's got Sphinx's Order memorized."

"Sphinx?" Ron said, clearly confused.

"Sphinx was the phoenix whose Order told of the Urdai's legend," Charlie explained. "A phoenix's Order is its prediction about the future. I dunno who gave it that name or why, but that's what it's called."

"Has Fawkes ever—" Harry started, but a loud roar echoed throughout the grounds. The bars of one of the cages was splitting, and the Chimaera it had held was getting out.

"Damn!" Charlie cursed loudly before pulling out his wand and charging towards the angry beast, which was throwing aside wizards like flies. 

Clouds began feeling the sky again, and Hagrid immediately scooped up Harry and Ron and charged at the castle. The Chimaera's roars echoed all around them as rain began to fall. In Harry's last fleeting glimpse of the grounds, he saw a small orange creature that walked on all fours like a cat, but with three tails and huge ears with black tips.

"Hagrid, wait—"

But Hagrid had already barged through the entrance hall's doors and locked them securely after. 

"Get up to the Gryffindor tower," he said hurriedly. "An' don' come ter see me till the Chimaera are gone!"

He shoved back through the door, bidding them to bolt it after him. All around him, Harry heard screams and roars echo eerily throughout the castle.

Hermione showed them the _Daily Prophet _article the next morning about the Chimaera. Harry read over it slowly in the common room. 

****

CHIMAERA ATTACK AT HOGWARTS

Rubeus Hagrid found five Chimaera in southern Ireland on his way back from a top secret mission,_ writes Edward Frost, Special Correspondent._ He reported them to the Ministry of Ireland immediately and then left upon their arrival. The Ministry, however, found no Chimaera, only the nesting grounds of them. 

When Hagrid arrived back at Hogwarts, he ventured into the Forbidden Forest on a standard checkup with his boarderhound, Fang, when the dog began barking at something. "I knew summat was wrong; Fang don' bark fer nothin'," says Hagrid. In a small clearing, several Chimaera were feeding on what appeared to Hagrid to be unicorns. The same Chimaera, maybe? Or was it merely a coincidence? 

Charlie Weasley, an official for the Regulation of Dragons in Romania, thinks not. "Chimaera are a peculiar breed of beasts," he says. "They have powers behind our control and even imagination. It's my theory, and that's all that it is, a theory, that these Chimaera followed Hagrid back to Britain, though I do not know how."

While attempting to stun the Chimaera, Mr. Weasley was slightly injured, along with thirty others, and there were one hundred slaughtered mercilessly by the beasts. Cornelius Fudge has posted Dementors at all entrances of the school once more, in hopes of stopping such creatures from entering the grounds. 

"We have to destroy these creatures before they destroy us," said the Minister. The Chimaera in question were taken to Romania with Mr. Weasley after being stunned numerous times and given Draught of the Living Dead potions. 

While the headmaster and Minister work together to solve this problem with creatures, be on the lookout for any sort of creature with a quadruple X rating or over, and if you see one, report it to the Ministry of Magic at once. 

"They're putting Dementors everywhere again?!" Harry said incredulously. "This isn't fair!"

"They're trying to protect us, Harry," said Hermione gently. "You shouldn't worry about them. And at least you know the Patronus Charm."

"Yeah, just wait till they come to one of your games again," said Ron, grinning. "You can get 'em like third year."

"I s'ppose you're right," said Harry. 

"Hey! Lovers and Harry! Get over here for a minute!"

Blushing furiously, at least for Ron and Hermione, the trio turned to find Fred and George standing in a corner, beaming at them. 

"What d'you guys want?" Harry asked cautiously as they approached the twins. 

"Just thought we'd let you know," said Fred.

"We're having a New Years' party on New Years' Eve," George finished. 

"It'll be in our dorm, the seventh years'," Fred said, then they both nodded once, grinned again, and left the common room for their dorm. 

"Well, this ought to be one interesting New Years' Eve," said Ron as the twins disappeared. "Yes, one _very_ interesting New Years' Eve."

__

(A/N: As tempting as it is to end this chapter right here, I'll keep going 'cause the next chapter will take a while to get up.) 

Later on that day, Harry saw Cho for the first time since the ball. She was walking toward the Ravenclaw tower, and Harry, though still weary of the girl, thought it best to apologize for not saying good-bye to her.

"Cho?" he called out. The girl stopped and turned around to face him.

"Yes, Harry?" she said stiffly. 

"Er—just thought I'd say sorry for…well…not saying goodnight to you the other night," Harry said awkwardly. 

"Oh, it's perfectly fine, Harry," said Cho, smiling to Harry's amazement. "Kirk explained everything to me, and I'm happy for you. I don't like you like I thought I did anyway."

Harry grinned. 

"Good…" he said, half to himself. "At least now I don't have…er—am I talking aloud?"

Cho giggled. 

"Yes," she said. 

Harry felt himself go red. 

"Er—sorry. Well, anyway, I'm glad you're not mad," he said. "I'll see you next Quidditch match, I think?"

"Of course. I've been named captain of Ravenclaw."

"Ooh, this ought to be interesting—I'm talking aloud again, aren't I?" Cho nodded. "Um…I'll just leave while I'm six feet under without digging myself further in. Bye, Cho."

"Bye. Oh—and Harry? I had a really nice time the other night. Thank you."

Harry nodded, then turned back to the direction of the Gryffindor tower, happy to have Cho out of the picture hopefully for good. _Anyway,_ he thought suddenly, _I couldn't have fought against her in Quidditch if she'd have turned out to like me. It's best this way._ And for once, he actually meant it.

***

"Get out the butterbeer, Harry!" bellowed George over the noise in the common room; even with the small number of Gryffindors, there was still quite a ruckus going on. Harry walked over to a table Fred had conjured and pulled out several bottles of butterbeer, then passed one to each person in the common room. 

It was seven o'clock in the evening on New Years' Eve, and the party had began for the Gryffindors. 

"We've nagged some food as well!" said Fred. "It's on the table, but don't eat it all till midnight!"

That night, the Gryffindors banded together as one, forgetting all their differences, if they had any in the first place, and sang Auld Lang Syne at midnight, blowing whistles and shouting their happiness. 


	19. Quidditch and Orders

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Quidditch and Orders

As second term rolled back in, students began reappearing at Hogwarts, apprehensively glancing at the Dementors that seemed to glare at them as they passed. Professor Dumbledore hadn't approved of the Dementors once more, yet Cornelius Fudge had insisted upon it as an extra precaution.

That was how Professor Tallow had put it, anyway, when Harry had asked if Dumbledore had been angry with Dementors everywhere. Tallow had reappeared amidst the students as well, seeming tired and strained; his usual boyish face was beginning to appear much older, and flecks of gray began spotting his hair. Defense Against the Dark Arts had, coincidentally, been the Gryffindors' first class back on Monday of the second term. 

"Please put your books aside and draw out your wands," said the professor as everyone got settled. "You won't be needing them today. We will be studying elves today. No—not house elves as you are accustomed to, but true elves, like in Muggle fantasy works. Now," he said quietly, pacing back and forth in front of the classroom, "have any of you ever seen an elf in person?"

There was silence, and not a single hand raised as the professor surveyed them.

"I didn't think so," he said with a grin, "and would have been very surprised if one of you _had_ seen one, as they have been extinct for quite some time. Er—actually, you may not need your wand, really, because I'm just going to lecture you for a while. You may take notes," he added, seeing Hermione's hand raise. 

Harry's mind drifted back to the time he had first met Tallow in the Alps, and how the man had been able to tell him, Hermione, and the Weasleys their names without asking or using any other information. He realized it had been quite a while since Tallow had read any of their minds.

"What does an elf look like?" Tallow asked, still pacing, now with his hands behind his back. Hermione's hand shot up. "Miss Granger?"

"Please, sir, an elf stands at about four feet tall," said Hermione, "with pointy ears and sharp eyes that can see great distances."

"Very good, Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor," said Professor Tallow, his pacing coming to an abrupt end. Hermione's chest swelled with pride. "Now, can anyone tell me why the elves are extinct?"

Hermione's hand darted up once more, but the professor's gaze was drifting to the others in the room. 

"You're correct, Miss Brown, if you would be so kind to tell the rest of the class your thoughts," said Tallow with another small grin. Lavender, though appearing quite taken aback at Tallow's abruptness, cleared her throat slightly.

"Er—the elves were enemies of the gnomes," she said, "and the gnomes constantly attacked them, until they finally managed to destroy them completely."

"Yes," said Tallow sharply, stirring Ron from his sleepy daze. There was a small puddle of drool next to his books. Hermione's nose scrunched up as Ron wiped away and Harry glared at him. "Does anyone know who the king of the elves was before that time, when the Erklings attacked and were defeated?"

Not even Hermione raised her hand this time. Professor Tallow's gaze drifted from person to person, obviously reading their thoughts. As he finished, he peered at them steadily. 

"Has no one heard of Oriole Gryffindor?" he asked after a moment. Hermione's eyes widened, as did Harry's, Ron's, and the others'. Hermione raised her hand slowly, shakily, to the air. "Miss Granger?"

"Oriole Gryffindor was an elf?" she asked in a small voice, clearly rather startled at the information.

"Yes," said Tallow. "Though not many people knew it. Oriole was as tall as any wizard, and as the elves were a bit of a hidden race, at least from Muggles and certain wizarding communities, so he passed himself off as a wizard and browsed through cities just as any other wizard would."

Harry raised his hand quickly when the professor briefly paused. "Yes, Mr. Potter?" 

"Was Oriole Gryffindor related to Godric Gryffindor?" he asked, his brows furrowed. 

"Yes, as a matter of fact he was, which is why he was so tall. Godric was well over six feet tall, so when his son married an elf, the size of their children was tall, though each of them were half-elf. Godric was proud of his son and grandsons, and they therefore became royalty amid the elves. Oriole was the only member of the Gryffindor family that chose to remain with the elves. He rose quickly in the political ranks, and soon became king. He brought the elves through many hardships before he was murdered by the gnome Aristal. Aristal Slytherin was what the gnome went by. No, he was of no relation to Salazar."

There was a moment's silence before Tallow took a deep breath and continued, "Oriole had three children, two boys and a girl. The boy who became prince was named Orrin Gryffindor, and he was excellent with charms. He interpreted his phoenix's Order himself, but we'll get into that in a moment. The Elven fortress on Orkney Island, just northeast of Scotland, was under siege by the gnomes when Orrin took over command from his father, and he fought with a ferocity of people who wanted their freedom. One night, the gnomes attacked and the western walls fell. Orrin and his family, which consisted of two boys and a girl, were in the eastern wing when Fawkes gave his Order.

"Fawkes told of a fate worse than death of the elves if they fought on, if they used their secret, most powerful weapon against the gnomes. Fawkes said that every elf would die unless Orrin sacrificed all but one member of his family; that member of the family would be the only living elf. He chose to save his daughter Oriel, and sent her away to Britain. She married and had three children, and each of her descendants had three children; two boys and a girl." 

He stopped here, carefully peering at the class as his pacing stopped. 

"Questions?" Tallow said. 

Slowly, Harry's hand rose. 

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" inquired Professor Tallow, giving Harry a curiously stern look.

"Are there any…known descendants of Oriel Gryffindor?" Harry asked carefully.

"A few," said Professor Tallow evasively. "Though only Oriel's maiden name was Gryffindor, not her married name. Any more questions?" 

Harry's hand slowly rose again. 

"Mr. Potter," said Tallow. 

"When you say Fawkes, you don't mean Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, do you?" Harry asked. 

"Actually, yes, Fawkes is the last phoenix to have given a prediction. The next one will occur in several years." Just then, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Tallow held them back a moment. "A foot long piece of parchment about Orrin Gryffindor's sacrifice for his daughter. Due next Monday. Have a good day."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered their things and quickly left the classroom, hearing Tallow sigh softly after them. They walked through the corridors, Ron digging into his pack for schedules. 

"Potions next," he said grimly, "with Slytherins."

"Why does Dumbledore _always_ put us with the Slytherins?" Harry asked savagely. 

"Maybe he thinks if he forces us together, we'll eventually work together appropriately," said Ron, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. They rounded a corner and found themselves face-to-face with the potions master himself.

Professor Snape only gave them a passing glance as he brushed by, muttering under his breath. 

"Well," said Hermione. "I wonder why Professor Tallow seemed so…"

"Put out?" Ron offered. Hermione nodded. 

"Yes, that's it," she said. "I wonder where he was during Christmas break?"

"God only knows," Ron muttered. "Chocolate Frogs," he said to the Fat Lady. The portrait hole swung open, admitting them into the common room. "Er—by the way, why are we going to the common room?"

Neither Harry or Hermione said anything for a moment, then, simultaneously, the trio sighed and began talking at once. 

"I don't know—"

"Good question—"

"Let's go to potions—"

So they set off for potions quickly, knowing most likely they would be late. As they neared the cold, dark dungeons, Harry heard voices drifting down from some other room. He motioned for Ron and Hermione to fall silent; Harry pressed his body against the wall and listened intently to the voices, one unmistakably belonging to Professor Snape himself.

"He's growing stronger, Severus, you can't deny that—"

"What good would it do to go back now? You betrayed a good many Death Eaters, Tallow, they won't just welcome you with open arms," said Snape's icy voice. 

"There's nothing we can do to stop him—he won't stop until he gets Potter, and if we just gave him to Voldemort, it would all be over—"

"—and you would be safe, right? This isn't about our own safety, and you should well know it. You were a spy for Voldemort; you know the risks taken to save people."

"The Stone of Oriole hasn't been seen for five hundred years, Severus!" Tallow said in an exasperated voice. "How would we ever find it?!"

"Lyra knows the way," said Snape. "She'll guide Potter and his company to the stone."

"It's too risky, Severus!" exclaimed the other voice, obviously Professor Tallow's. "Potter's the only one that can touch the stone—what if he's murdered? The whole company would be lost senselessly."

"They would not be lost _senselessly_; they would be lost fighting for what was right, not betraying their fellow countrymen and joining Voldemort. Lyra will find a way, even if under the misfortune Potter does die."

"I thought Lyra was Sirius Black's girlfriend, that you hated her as much as James and the other Marauders."

"It's time to put aside differences, Dol, or you won't make it far at all in this world on our side. You can go ahead and desert us, but I guarantee you'll see your death before you so much as get ten feet into the archipelago, let alone to Faeroe." 

Footsteps followed, and the trio scattered before Snape walked out and found them, stopping only when they reached potions' class, a good five minutes after the bell rang. Everyone was chatting idly before Snape appeared, while Harry, Ron, and Hermione leaned in close to each other. 

"Did Snape just stand up for us?" Harry asked, knowing that each of his friends were thinking the exact same thing.

"Ginny—we've got to talk," said Harry as he poured over books in the library, Ginny sitting across from him. Professor McGonagall had reminded them of the O.W.L.'s, which even Hermione had been neglecting to study for. In a frenzy, Hermione had rushed Harry and Ron to the library, and they had been studying ever since Tuesday—it was now Friday. 

"What about Harry?" Ginny asked, her brown eyes widening slightly. "And what are three ways to identify a werewolf?"

"Er—snout size…fur color, and…" Harry trailed, off, looking imploringly to Ginny, who gave him a weary look and sighed. 

"Eyes," she said. "Werewolves have pointy eyes, and normal wolves have larger ones."

"Er—right. It's Professor Tallow. Something's wrong with him."

"What? I always liked him. What's an Urdai's main attack?"

"Sharp claws and speed."

"Right."

"He was a Death Eater, we think. Malfoy told him in front of me one day to watch out, and that not many people knew what Tallow used to be."

"But Dumbledore would've known, wouldn't he have? He trusts Snape, and Snape was a Death Eater."

"Yes, but Snape rejoined before Voldemort fell."

"Give me the definition of a Reaper."

"Tall thing with a black cloak, red, glowing eyes, and a scythe. Attacks at night, and can kill even without the scythe. Rumors of their appearance in England have been confirmed by Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ginny and Ron Weasley."

"Very good." 

"Thank you."

"But we don't know when Tallow rejoined our side, or even if he did. Maybe he's still spying. The incantation for the Summoning Charm."

"_Accio_. He had to've rejoined, Gin, 'cause no one didn't rejoin when Voldemort fell."

"Good. Maybe he hid for a while. He said he lived in America during winter seasons to play hockey."

"Hockey?" Harry asked suddenly. "I bet Kirk would've heard of him if he's a major name in hockey." He thought about it a moment longer, then rose from his chair. "I'm going to go ask him."

"What about studying?" Ginny chastised, though she rose as well.

Harry shrugged. "One more question, then."

"Never mind, we can go now," sighed the younger girl, moving so that she was standing next to Harry. Harry raised his eyebrows. 

"'We'?" he said, concealing a grin. "What's that about?"

"I'm not letting you do this alone," said Ginny, giving him a dazzling smile through the red curls that framed her childish face. "I'm going," she stated firmly, then started off for the exit of the library. 

Harry grinned after her, his mind in a sort of daze. _What have I gotten myself into?_ he wondered silently, then decided it was rhetorical and chose to take the simpler path of following Ginny. 

"How are we going to go about asking him?" Harry called after her as he hurried down the corridors. 

He saw Ginny give a small shrug from up ahead. 

"The truth seems appealing," she said, glancing back at him long enough to smile. 

"So what d'we say? 'Hey, Kirk! Just wondering if you've ever heard of Dol Tallow the hockey player? Only we think he's a Death Eater that's been hiding from everyone over here for a while.' I don't think that's quite appropriate for his young ears."

"Kirk's been through a lot, too, I'd say."

"How so? He lives in Canada. Voldemort wasn't a major influence over there."

"He was in America."

"America's different. Everything we do influences America."

"We never fought for independence."

"Which is why they won the war—we weren't experienced with rebellions."

"Either that, or no wizards were involved."

"Good point. Chocolate Frogs."

The portrait hole swung open and Harry climbed briskly through, offering Ginny his hand as she climbed in. They found Kirk almost instantly; he was in the common room with his trumpet, honking short, staccato peals and terrorizing the others, who were trying desperately to study, and Harry could see by the number of people there that a good many had already left.

"Kirk, shaddup for a minute, please," greeted Harry through gritted teeth. Kirk mocked a sad face, pulling his trumpet down and holding it in front of his stomach. 

"All right," he said. "But only for a minute," he added quickly. 

"Good then," said Ginny. 

"Have you ever heard of Dol Tallow—wait, what am I saying?" Harry muttered. "Is Professor Tallow a hockey player in America?"

Kirk put on a thoughtful face for a moment, as though going through names. 

"Er—not to my humble knowledge of hockey," he said. "Unless I'm greatly mistaken, however, his dad was. Same name, too. Dol Tallow. Long time ago, and only in the wizarding hockey leagues."

"Thanks Kirk, that's just what we needed to know," said Ginny with a satisfied grin. 

"You can go off and torture fifth years now," said Harry when Kirk said nothing. Kirk grinned, then darted off happily, and Harry and Ginny heard the Fat Lady shouting after him for a good five minutes. "He wasn't a hockey player then."

"Unless Kirk was wrong," said Ginny doubtfully. 

"No, I doubt Kirk was wrong," said Harry with a grim expression. "He's always right when it comes to hockey."

"You're sure?" Ginny pressed gently, curiously. 

"Positive."

"Then Professor Tallow may well be a traitor."

The words hung in the stillness of the common room, and even the fire, though bright as ever, forgot to crackle for a moment, as if the realization of the truth had just hit them. Harry and Ginny faced each other, standing, quietly. 

"What now?" Ginny asked softly, and the sounds returned, restored fully and like they had never been missing. 

"We watch him," said Harry after a moment. "If he's a traitor, he'll do something suspicious. The way he was talking to Snape, I'd would've been willing to bet he'd have gone back to Voldemort the next day."

"What?" Ginny asked, confusion appearing visibly on her face. 

"Er—we sort of over heard Professor Tallow and Snape talking on Monday, and it sounded to us like Tallow was about to crawl back to Voldemort with me on a silver platter."

Ginny's eyes widened quite a bit, then she gasped quickly. 

"If he _is_ a traitor, then you're right—he'll do something," she said. "I say you're right again, in the thought that we should watch him."

"Good," said Harry with a slight smile. "We'll tell Ron and Hermi about what we're doing, of course."

"Of course," said Ginny curtly, a smile now appearing upon her face. There was something about her that was different suddenly, Harry realized, something that made her look more like a girl than just Ron's sister. _I can't fall in love with Ginny Weasley!_ Harry screamed to himself silently. _Ron would never forgive me! I can't, I can't, I can't!_

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, interrupting his thoughts. 

"Er—yes," he said quickly. "I'd better go practice my—"

"Quidditch, Harry!" called a new voice exuberantly from the portrait hole. Fred was rushing towards them, grinning from ear to ear. "Our next Quidditch match is the twenty-fourth!"  


"I hope you mean of February," said Harry in a flat tone. 

"Of course not! I mean in two weeks!" Fred said, continuing to practically bounce up and down. "And we got new brooms for the team! Except for you, Harry, unless you want one—we got a couple extras in case any of 'em broke. Thanks, thanks, thanks!"

"For what?" Harry asked, quite taken aback at Fred's outbursts. 

"For your favor at the end of the year last year!" he said happily. "It's lasted until just now, when we used up the last of it for broomsticks!"

Harry permitted himself a grin at this, the thoughts of the Triwizard Tournament no longer shattering his insides with cold. 

"Great!" he said. "When's practice start?"

"Now!" said Fred. "C'mon, the weather's getting snowy so we need to train for it in case Ravenclaw's better than we expect. I sent Kirk to scout 'em."

"Just let me grab my—"

"Your Firebolt's in the broomshed, Harry, waiting for you patiently," Fred interrupted. "Now c'mon! It's off to the pitch!" 

Ginny gave Harry a sympathetic look as he was dragged away by Fred towards the portrait hole. "I know you've got to study for O.W.L.'s," Fred said as they exited the common room, "but this is more important, I think."

"Don't you and George have N.E.W.T.'s this year?" Harry asked. 

"Well…yes, but we know enough to pass them sufficiently," spewed Fred quickly. "That's what we told Mum, anyhow. Didn't seem to like the idea of our being Quidditch captains, 'cause of all the"—and he put on a high voice that was unmistakably a mock of Mrs. Weasley's—"'hours you'll be wasting practicing when you could be getting valuable study in.'" Fred returned to his normal voice. "We assured her that we're studying quite enough, and it seemed to ease her overactive studying lectures."

Harry laughed a bit as they walked past several Dementors at the entrance hall, one's gaze drifting after the two Gryffindors until they were out of sight. 

"Those things give me the creeps," said Fred with a slight shudder. "George and me tried to pull a prank on one of 'em in third year. Tried to drop some Dungbombs on it so it'd clear out of the way, but it got a little—er—_unreasonable_ with us and reported us to Dumbledore. He gave us a stern lecture and detention for two days. Not our best, by far, but still—two days for a _harmless _little prank."

Harry raised his eyebrows. He doubted if dropping Dungbombs on a Dementor would be considered _harmless_, though he didn't press the matter as they reached the pitch. There was a light dusting of snow surrounding the area, though the pitch itself was totally snow-free. The sun shone brightly through the trees of the Forbidden Forest, making the remaining snow glisten in the light and seem brighter than Harry would have thought possible; for a moment he had to shield his eyes so that they would adjust to the brightness. 

"George and me cleaned it off this morning," said Fred proudly. 

"How?" Harry asked in wonder. 

"Well—we have window seats during Divination, our morning subject, so we sat there, summoning the snow with Summoning Charms the whole period—we couldn't see it, but we knew it was there. Professor Trelawney got a bit confused, though; couldn't figure out why there was so much snow in her window. She predicted me and George's death by an avalanche, so we probably just got her started on a new revelation."

"Good day, Harry!" called George, emerging from the locker rooms with a broomstick slung across his shoulder easily. 

"About time you two slackers got here," said Kirk in mock offense, following George out towards the pitch. "Don't yeh know we've got a Quidditch Cup to win?!"

Harry grinned as Angelina appeared as well, tossing his Firebolt to him. Katie and Alicia walked out moments later, grinning in a fashion much like Fred and George. 

"All right, boys and girls," said George seriously as the team gathered in a small circle in the middle of the pitch. "First, we have Kirk to give us the latest information on the team." He turned to the young boy. "If you would be so kind, Kirk?"

Kirk stepped to where Fred and George had been standing, putting on his best fake smile and failing miserably. 

"Well, there's good news…" he started, and the team's grins broadened, "then there's bad news. Uh-huh. First the good news! Er—actually…there, um, isn't any good news. But there's always bad news! Firstly, every Ravenclaw player rides a Peregrine Two Thousand, a very, _very_ fast broomstick that's brand new. It can turn corners very quickly, at speeds reaching…er…thirty-three miles per hour. Bad. Next, even without the broomsticks, Ravenclaw's fast as living heck. Every move they make is fast. Cho Chang obviously went for speed rather than anything else, and she's accomplished quite a bit."

A grim silence fell upon the ashen-faced Gryffindor team. Fred and George looked apprehensively to their team. 

"Thanks, Kirk," said Fred, and Kirk bowed himself out of the way. 

"Speed," said George with an intensity matched only by the fierce look in his face. "We have to train for speed."

"If we train for speed we can beat them at their own game," said Fred, an expression much like George's plastered across his face. 

"But how?" Katie asked, frowning slightly. Everyone turned to her. She went on slowly, "If they've got Peregrine Two Thousands, they're out of our league."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the Gryffindor team, until George angrily silenced them.

"No one, but _no one_," he said, "is out of _our_ league."

"We have new broomsticks, too," said Fred, a grin flashing briefly across his face. "Presenting, to your delight, I'm sure, our new Penguins."

He reached behind them and pulled out a small trolley Harry knew hadn't been there earlier, which was carrying ten beautifully made broomsticks; the handles of each read _Penguin,_ and the bristles at the end had a golden glint in the sunlight. As though sensing the presence of their to-be owners, each broomstick, minus four, snapped towards each member of the team except for Harry. The team's eyes widened in delight, as Fred had said. 

"They're yours until we leave, then Harry's going to control their usage," said George as each Gryffindor climbed aboard a Penguin. 

"We got 'em for a real cheap price," Fred muttered to Harry, "otherwise we wouldn't have been able to buy everyone a broomstick. They're guaranteed to work perfectly, though, or we get our two hundred Galleons back."

"They were only two hundred Galleons altogether?" Harry asked incredulously. 

"Well…we promised the owner of the shop we bought 'em from a discount at our joke shop…for life," said Fred with another grin. "And that five percent of our profit would go towards paying him off until they're paid for."

"So you're in debt already," said Harry in an amused tone. "Can't wait to see what's happened to you and George in ten years."

Fred grinned as the rest of the team rose from the ground.

"Oh, we'll manage," he said easily, then climbed on his broomstick and flew away, cackling after himself.

Harry watched the team fly around a moment more before joining them. They had been flying for several minutes before Fred flew back to the ground. 

"I think you're used to the Penguins by now, so I'm going to throw the Quaffle up and release the Snitch," he shouted up to the others. Harry circled the area directly above Fred's head as a flash of scarlet bolted through the sky towards Angelina, who smiled sweetly at Fred before darting off; next came the smallest of flashes of gold as the Golden Snitch fluttered away from everyone at a very fast speed. 

Fred then released both Bludgers, grabbed his club, and kicked off, joining the rest of the team. Harry glanced around for any sign of gold, and, upon seeing none, decided this was going to be a long day…a very long day, indeed….

Wearily, the Gryffindor team collapsed to the ground after seven furious hours of solid practice. Harry thought he had never felt so hot in January as he did now. Snow was toppling gently from the sky, and an otherwise harsh breeze was blowing; to the team, however, it felt like their first meal after being lost in a desert for seven hours. 

Even Fred and George seemed rather tired. 

"Well, we ought to be quick enough now," said Fred, wiping sweat from his forehead. 

"Practice next week, same time," said George.

"To the showers," the twins said together, then trudged off immediately towards the locker rooms. 

Angelina, Katie, and Alicia headed for the common room, Kirk gleefully tagging along after them. Harry crawled over to the stadium seats and laid down on them with a sigh. The full moon shined down on him, and dotting the sky were dozens of stars, winking down at him as cold settled over him. _Somewhere out there, Remus is roaming the countryside as a werewolf. Somewhere, Sirius is fighting against Voldemort. _

"And somewhere, Voldemort is gaining more and more power, ever so slightly," he heard himself utter aloud. Giving a quick glance around to make sure no one had overheard his reverie, he sat up, his neck popping slightly as he did. 

"Harry?" came a soft, quiet voice from behind him. Harry whirled around to see Ginny standing there in midnight blue robes, her red hair sparkling. Gaining enough control to keep his mouth from hanging open, Harry swallowed hard. _Damn, she's beautiful in the moonlight,_ he thought dreamily. _Snap out of it, old boy! Gain control of yourself before you do something you shouldn't! _

"Yes?" Harry said, his voice sounding strangely high to him.

"Good, it's just you," Ginny muttered, half to herself. However, she gave him another of her dazzling smiles and approached him as a cat stalking its prey would. Harry gulped again. Ginny came to a stop very close to him, then plopped down next to his back, barely more than an inch from him. 

"Er—you…need to talk?" Harry managed to squeak out. _God, I'm falling in love with Ginny Weasley. God, I just admitted it. This is going to be a long second term._ He positioned himself awkwardly so that he could see her face, and gave her a sideways glance. 

"Yes," said Ginny, staring out towards the center of the pitch. 

Silence followed her answer, interrupted only by Harry's cautious voice. 

"What about?" 

Another moment's silence passed as hesitation flashed across the girl's face. She seemed to shake herself inwardly before replying in a couture voice, "Everything and nothing." Ginny gave a quiet laugh before turning serious once more. "First, Tallow's made his move again, it looks like; he disappeared today, and when I asked Professor McGonagall where he'd gone to, she frowned and acted like she didn't know he had left at all. Which leads me to think…"

"…that he's run back to Voldemort," Harry finished for her, watching her intensely. 

Ginny nodded affirmatively.

"If he stays gone too long, then I'm almost positive that's where he's gone to," she explained. "Hermione seems to be thinking on the same lines as us, because she had already been watching Tallow. She said that she'd found it odd he'd left for Christmas break when Dumbledore hadn't mentioned his name after…after the third task."

"What d'you think? He doesn't seem to be the traitorous kind," Harry frowned, his brow furrowed. 

"Neither did everyone's favorite Auror," sighed Ginny sardonically. 

"That _wasn't_ Moody, though; I'm pretty sure that Tallow's just who he says he is—Dol Tallow."

"Well, you do have a point. I doubt if they'd use the same trick twice."

_The legend_, whispered a voice from the back of Harry's head. _What legend?_

"How could you take on someone else's appearance if you're not using Poly-Juice Potion, though?" 

_Urdai._

"There's no other potion, is there?" Ginny went on, her eyebrows now knitting together. 

_Urdai, Urdai. Urdai. _

Barely audibly came the whispered word in Harry's mind, and his eyes widened a bit. _He can't be an Urdai. How could he have been Ginny that one day? What about Dumbledore? _

_Remember the legend. The legend. The legend of the Urdai. Think._

"Harry?" Ginny snapped her fingers in front of his face, sharply bringing reality back to him. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," said Harry after a moment. "Yeah," he repeated, this time with conviction. "Just thinking. We'll keep watching him and see if he makes any more moves." 

Ginny nodded. 

"And what was the other thing you wanted to talk to me about?" Harry said, turning back to face his legs' direction. 

"Er…just…I wanted to say…erm…" Ginny spluttered. 

Harry glanced back at her curiously. 

"Anything wrong?" he asked, giving her a sideways look. 

Ginny shook her head. 

"No," she said quickly. "The other thing wasn't important. Just be careful from now on, Harry." 

She kissed him swiftly on the cheek before disappearing in the swish of her midnight blue robes, only pausing to give Harry a dazzling smile. Harry stared after her. _Well_, he thought ruefully, _today was very…er…eventful. Yes, that's the perfect word for it. _He rose, draped his broom across his shoulder, and walked to the castle, his mind wondering. He settled into his four-poster and pulled the sheets tightly across his head, willing the sun to keep away.

***

"Harry! WAKE UP!" 

Harry groaned and shifted on his bed. 

"What'sammater?" he muttered, lowering the sheets from his eyes just enough to see Ron standing above his four-poster, an impatient expression on his face. 

"It's twelve o'clock," he heard Ron say in exasperation. 

"So?" Harry shot back. "It's Saturday, isn't it?"

There was a moment's silence, broken only by Ron's soft cursing. 

"Damn. I knew I forgot something."

"Ron—go back to sleep, please."

There was silence again, then the creaking of a bed as Ron clambered into his four-poster. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, then pulled the covers back over his head and attempted to fall asleep again. 

"All students please report to the Great Hall," boomed a loud voice just as Harry was near asleep. "Immediately."

"Well," Ron muttered crossly as he rose, "that nap didn't last long, did it?"

"Nope," said Harry. "Guess we ought to get down to the Great Hall."

"I suppose so." 

Neither moved for a moment. 

"Yep," said Ron, stretching, "we ought to leave just _any_time now…anytime…."

"Mmm-hmm," Harry muttered. "G'night, Ron."

"'Night, Harry."

Both boys were sleep seconds later. 

"RONALD WEASLEY!" shrieked a feminine voice, stirring Harry slightly. "HAROLD JAMES POTTER!" 

Harry snapped up at the mention of his name frowning. _Why's everything so dark? _

Something grabbed the covers of his four-poster and angrily threw them off of his head. _Oh._ Hermione stood above his four-poster, a furious expression on her face. 

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"Just exactly where were you two dunderheads during Professor Dumbledore's speech to us?" Hermione demanded. 

Harry looked away sheepishly. 

"Erm…enjoying the luxuries of our four-posters?" Ron mumbled from behind him. Harry stifled a laugh. 

"Oh, and I suppose you think it's really funny that you missed it, eh?" snapped Hermione. "What if I choose not to tell you everything Dumbledore told us? Bet you wouldn't think it was so funny then, would you?"

Harry was so taken aback at the girl's fury that he turned and looked at her. She wasn't focusing on him, however; her gaze was directly pointed to Ron, whose facial color matched his hair's. 

"Aw, 'Mione," Ron whimpered with a touch of sarcasm, "you wouldn't do that to us, would you?"

He gave her a sad-puppy look. Hermione gave a small, indignant sniff. 

"I suppose you're right," she said with a sigh. 

"So, what'd he say?" Harry asked curiously. "And how come he didn't notice that we weren't there? I figured Dumbledore'd see everyone."

"I think he noticed, Harry," said Hermione coolly. "But that's not important. He told us that they found…" She trailed off, her anger now replaced by a softened expression as though she'd just remembered something terrible. "That they found…Seamus Finnigin's body," she said squeakily. "He's…dead…."

Ron paled instantly. Harry's face clouded, a worried expression flashing across it. 

"How?" he asked. "When, and where?"

Hermione took a deep breath before replying rather tensely, "He was murdered in the castle at the beginning of the year." 

"He can't've been, though," Ron interrupted. "He's been here since then."

"You only _thought_ that Seamus, Ron," said Hermione impatiently. "Don't you remember the lesson about Urdai?"

_Urdai, Urdai._ Harry's mind clouded as well. _It was an Urdai. Seamus wasn't Seamus. Seamus was an Urdai. Then what about Tallow? Couldn't Tallow be the same one if they found Seamus's body? _Hermione continued her explanation, but her words never quite made it through to Harry's brain. _Something's going on here. How could an Urdai get in? Hogwarts is basically impossible to enter. It can't be true…. Something's not right. There had to be an insider. Someone had to be helping before Seamus. Who, though? Tallow, he's the only one. What about Snape? No, Dumbledore trusts him. It can't be Snape. It had to be—_

"It wasn't any of our professors, Harry," Hermione said, correctly depicting his expression. He frowned at her. 

"Then how did an Urdai get inside the castle if not with the help of someone already inside?" he asked, his voice low. 

"Because Urdai have special powers that we can only dream of," said a calm voice from the doorway. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all started, then turned to face the figure standing there. Seamus Finnigin's casual frame leaned against the door. A wand was in his hand, and there was a small clicking noise. They were locked in. 

"Seamus," said Harry, a ferocity in his voice that caused the other to flinch noticeably. "What an unpleasant surprise."

"We aim to please," said Seamus calmly, a smug look plastered about his face. "So, little Miss Perfect," he spat, "finally figured out the truth. And Weasley's gonna fight me for calling her that." Ron's face had gone brick red with anger, his fists balled up at his sides. "What's wrong, Weasley? She your girlfriend?" Ron's face, if possible went a bit redder, and Hermione's cheeks were tinged pink. 

Underneath his cold fury towards Seamus, Harry felt a ripple of light amusement. 

"So what if she is?" Ron shot back. 

The expression on Seamus's face turned colder than before. 

"I always knew," he explained as though he were talking to an old friend, "that Granger and you had something. You were in love, and everyone knew it but you." His voice grew into a low growl as he whispered, "You were so blind."

It happened in a flash of crimson and blue light; had Harry not had the skills of a Seeker who sported excellent vision, he'd have missed it. Ron had whipped his wand from behind his back and performed some kind of hex, and Seamus had been blown into and threw the dorm door, leaving a large hole where he'd hit. Ron stood poised with his wand hand outstretched, a look only to be described as murderous in his brown eyes. Harry knew for an instant one thing he'd never do: Tell Ron that he was blind towards his feelings for Hermione. 

An eerie silence fell across the three people in the room. Harry slowly walked over to the door without speaking and looked through the hole. Nothing was there but a long white streak. Hermione walked over to the door, lightly gestured for Harry to step aside, then muttered an incantation, and the hole in the door was gone. Harry sat down on his bed as Ron and Hermione faced each other sheepishly. 

"Er…" said Ron. 

"Yeah," said Hermione. 

Harry stared at them with confusion. _Don't act like you're a smooth-talker around girls,_ a voice reprimanded him angrily. _You can barely string one whole sentence together around Ginny Weasley. Shaddup. Great, now I'm talking and arguing with myself. I wonder if Ron does this?_

Then, to Harry's great disgust and before he could turn his head away, Ron leaned closer to Hermione, until their lips finally met in a soft kiss. Harry figured they would break away instantaneously, but he found himself wrong, as the kiss only deepened. 

Gathering his wand and shoving on a set of robes, Harry left the dorm, trusting that the two lovers would be quite content without him. _Well. Today was already eventful. _Deciding it best to wait for Ron and Hermione to finish their…er…_business_ before going to see Dumbledore, Harry plopped down on the couch in front of the fireplace. 

He sighed audibly. _Why can't I just kiss Gin and get it over with? _he demanded angrily of himself, then shook himself. _I'm starting to act like Ron. _He shrugged to himself, then murmured aloud, "Is that such a bad thing?" 


	20. 

A/N: Wow, already chapter twenty

****

**Chapter Twenty**

****

****

**Giggles and Quidditch**

"What's not such a bad thing?"

Harry sprang to his feet at the quiet voice from behind him. Ginny stood at the bottom of the stairs to the girls' dorms, her red hair glistening in the fire of the common room. There was a funny flutter in the region of Harry's stomach as he plopped back down in the chair, choosing the easy way out of her question: ignore it.

Ginny walked over to the sofa and sat down next to him, barely an inch between them. 

"Where're Ron and Hermione?" she asked in a would-be casual voice.

_Wonder why she sounds like that? Seamus is dead, dolt. She's worried about how you're taking it—but you obviously don't care. Shaddup._

"Er—snogging in our dorm," Harry said bluntly, with a look of such seriousness that Ginny goggled at him for a moment before collapsing into a fit of giggles. 

"What brought—that—about?" Ginny choked out between laughs.

"It's really ratherincredible," said Harry awkwardly. "See, Ron and me slept through Dumbledore's announcements—"

"No kidding," said Ginny coolly.

"—and then Mione came up and got angry at us," he continued, ignoring Ginny's comment, "and then—this is the incredible part—Seamus Finnigin appeared. Before he could say anything but that Ron and Mione love each other, Ron stunned him and blew him through our dorm door, then he disappeared and Ron and Herm started snogging."

Once more, Ginny gawked at him. She was still shaking with suppressed giggles from the news of her brother and best friend snogging, but her eyes were telling Harry one thing—she thought he was mental.

"Really, Ginny, think for a second before calling me an idiot," he said quietly. "Would Ron and Hermi just start snogging out of nowhere? Be realistic," he added, seeing her giving him a sarcastic glance.

"I suppose you're right," she muttered after a moment, "Ron would be too daft to realize two plus two equals four if it involved Hermione in any way." She paused, then her face contorted with anger. "WHY HAVEN'T YOU GONE TO SEE DUMBLEDORE?!" she screeched.

Harry edged away a bit from the seething witch, then laughed slightly, saying, "I'm _not _interrupting them. I'd rather not witness more snogging, thank you very much."

Ginny stared at him, her face expressionless. Quite suddenly, however, a mischievous glint appeared in her brown eyes and an innocent smile appeared across her face.

"You wouldn't kiss a girl?" she asked impishly.

It took Harry several moments to take her implication, and when he finally understood, he jumped up from his seat. 

"Er—I will go get them, maybe," he spluttered, walking towards the stairs.

Ginny chortled with laughter after him.

Bounding up the steps, Harry turned his head and stared ruefully down back to where Ginny was waiting for him to return with Ron and Hermione. _Now is _NOT _the time to be thinking of ways to kiss her senseless, dolt! Just go fetch Ron and Hermione! _

In the end this voice won over any other quarries in his mind, and he continued darting up the stairs. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the door, which he'd closed as he had left earlier. He knocked tentatively. No response. He pounded on the door with his fist.

"Ron, Mione!" he called loudly.

"GO AWAY!" came a muffled answer. 

Harry was silent for a moment, then he tried to open the door. But as he reached out, there was a soft click. They had locked the door.

"Damn it," Harry said quietly. He drew his wand and whispered, "_Alohomora."_

Another click sounded, and Harry forced through the door. His eyes were greeted by the sight of a very-busy Ron and Hermione, both of whom seemed oblivious to anything in the world other than each other. 

"Quit snogging for just a moment, could you please?" Harry muttered, looking away. 

A soft gasp came, and he turned to see Ron and Hermione spring apart, looking rather winded. Both had very pink cheeks. Harry surveyed them with mild amusement for a moment, wondering why Hermione hadn't tried out for band—she obviously had very good breath support.

"You—er—wanted to speak with us?" Hermione breathed. 

"Just—we need to go to Dumbledore," said Harry quickly, "then you two can come back here for some more privacy—"

"Shaddup," said Ron irritably. "Let's go, then."

The walk down the stairs was rather stiff and quiet; both Ron and Hermione seemed to be trying to ignore the fact that they had just snogged for fifteen, non-stop minutes, and Harry had no desire to cause tribulation between them.   


Ginny giggled slightly as she caught sight of Ron's scarlet face, followed then by Hermione's equally red one, then Harry's irritated expression (if not disgusted totally). 

"What kept you?" she said with an amused tone. 

Harry glared and gestured vaguely to the teenagers in front of him. Ginny's mouth formed the word "Oh" but no sound came out. She was staring towards the portrait hole, and Harry, following her gaze, saw that there was a very tall man standing there, appearing as though he had just climbed through the portrait hole. Directly behind him were Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape, all glancing furtively around, their wands drawn. 

"Er—is there a problem, professors?" said Harry meekly.

The big man spoke first, a small amount of French in his accent. 

"There was a non-Apparitionatory disappearance in the fifth years' dormitory at approximately ten fifteen," he said stoutly. "It is my responsibility as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to ensure that everyone is all right and to find whatever it was that disappeared. So," he added, a suspicious look about him, "which one of you used such magic as a non-Apparitionatory—"

All at once, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione started speaking.

"It wasn't us—"

"—yeah, it was Finnigin—"

"—he was an Urdai, Professor—!"

"—he showed up in our dorm—"

"—and told Ron and Hermione of their undying love of each other—" 

Harry was elbowed into silence mid-sentence by Hermione, whose cheeks were challenging Ron's hair in color. 

"Before any of you began explanations again," Dumbledore said quietly, his blue eyes staring them down, "can I please ask you a few questions?" His voice carried a hint of amusement and his eyes began to twinkle once more as his gaze lingered on Ron and Hermione's interlaced hands. 

The two teenagers sprang apart once more, appearing very flustered.

"Now, who came into your dorm?" 

"Seamus Finnigin," said Harry calmly. "Or something of that natureit looked like him."

"How did this thing disappear?"

"Ron blew him through a door, then it was gone the next second when we looked out."

"Any markings of any kind around where it vanished?"

Harry thought hard for a moment.

"Er—yeah, a long white streak."

Professor Dumbledore stepped back, appearing satisfied. He glanced pointedly at the big man, who cleared his throat.

"It couldn't have been an Urdai, Dumbledore, you know that as well as I," he muttered softly.

"Why exactly not, Romulus?" said Dumbledore courteously.

The man, Romulus, looked a bit startled before he answered, "Well, they've been extinct for a good fifteen years now."

"The legend, Romulus, the legend," whispered Professor Flitwick squeakily. 

Romulus turned his gaze to the minute professor.

"You can't mean—surely you don't believe—that was complete rubbish, Flitwick, and you know it."

"It wasn't rubbish, Romulus," said Flitwick quietly. "It was as true as I am real. The Urdai are invincible to extinction. They'll never die out. You should well be aware of that as head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement." 

Flitwick and Romulus leered at each other behind narrowed eyes.

"Enough," said Dumbledore. "The legend is a legend, and whether or not any of us chooses to believe it is his or her business. I would rather not discuss such a controversial issue that matters very little at a time such as this. Something—or someone—is getting on and off the school grounds without Apparition, and by all means every measure of safety must be taken. First and foremost," he directed to Romulus, "you are to either escort Mr. Fudge's Dementors off of my school grounds or I will drive them away. They're nothing but a threat now, and they can no more protect my students than I."

"I'm not required to follow your orders, Headmaster," said Romulus in a soft hiss. "You're not working for our side, that much is obvious—" 

Dumbledore's eyes flashed dangerously. He carried a manner of anger that Harry had only seen once—when he'd stunned Moody last year.

"I am working with you and your Ministry as much as you are, Romulus," he said, his expression not faltering, "and I therefore demand as much respect as you get. I am headmaster of this school, and I shall protect my responsibilities, these students, as I see fit. Your Minister of Magic's condolence means little more than nothing to me when he refuses to accept the truth. I will not live on lies, Romulus, and I beg you to take your Dementors away from here or I shall have them destroyed, something which would do us all a favor."

Romulus's eyes flickered from each of the four professors, then back to Harry. His gaze settled upon Harry, though, and it lingered there for several moments.

"The boy—is he Harry Potter?" 

"That is not your area of concern, Romulus," said Professor McGonagall quietly, an Irish accent flaring sharply. 

Romulus's eyes narrowed, then he stalked off angrily. The garnet fire in Dumbledore's eyes slowly faded as he turned back to Harry and the others. He smiled kindly.

"Romulus Lupin," he said quietly. "Remus's brotherbrothers of close age tend to be quite different, don't they?" He laughed softly. "I'll need to see the place where Finnigin disappeared, Harry, if you don't mind."

Harry nodded, then walked towards his dorm, wondering what was happening in the outside world that hadn't reached the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

The next week for Harry was fairly uneventful. Hermione announced the day after Seamus popped up that the Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor had been changed to the Friday of the week they were in. Fred and George had nearly matched Oliver Wood in forcing their team to practice every night, hour upon hour. 

The first couple of nights of late practice were the worst for Harry; Filch caught him the first night, dragging snow in behind him—he received detention in the Forbidden Forest two weeks from Friday, and the second night he hadn't been able to fall asleep, so he just sat aimlessly in front of the fire. By the morning of the fourth day, his eyes were baggy and his temper was on a short leash. 

"Morning, Harry," Ginny greeted cheerfully that dreary Thursday before the game. 

"Mm," he responded, about to take a bite of his bacon. He missed and ended up falling onto his plate, dead asleep. Milk poured down the side of the table and on him, but he was too blacked out to notice.

Ginny eyed him with worry next to Ron and Hermione (who had finally been forced to release each other to eat properly). 

"Sheesh," Ron muttered, "such manners—"

Ginny glared at him. 

"Fred and George are killing the team!" she said. 

"Nah, they're just practicing them hard so we'll win," Ron responded easily.

"Look at Kirk!"

Kirk Joseph, who'd just entered the Great Hall was fidgeting, arms shooting out at odd times. 

"He still thinks he's playing Quidditch! It's taking over their lives!" 

Just then, as if to accentuate her frustration of fidgeting and sleepy, unmannerful boys, lightning flared sharply at the ceiling. A storm was brewing outside, obviously, which only increased Ginny's anxiety. 

"He'll freeze tonight coming in!" she told Ron and Hermione, vaguely gesturing to a very comfortable-looking Harry. "Really, January—what a time to have a thunderstorm!" she fumed, giving the ceiling a dark glance. 

"Relax, Ginny," said Hermione soothingly, "I'm sure he'll be fine."

Ginny, though still seeming not convinced, turned to Harry with a dazzling smile and pecked lightly on his shoulder. 

"I'll be down to the pitch in a moment," he mumbled, his hand rising, then falling, "just five more minutes, Fred, and I swear I'll be there"

He continued spewing out words unintelligibly, and this seemed to only confirm Ginny's belief. She got up and walked briskly out of the Great Hall, bumping hotly by Fred and George and giving them dark glances as she passed. 

"What was that all about?" Fred yawned. 

Hermione stared at Fred in horror, her thoughts now the same as Ginny's, and she, too, stormed off. 

Ron waved jovially after her, calling, "Does this mean our date for tonight's canceled?"

Hermione glared over her shoulder, and Ron sniggered into his breakfast after her.

Late that same night, Harry trudged back into the castle, wet from head to toe and sneezing and sniffling every other step. He came to the wonderful conclusion that he had allergies or something of the like—or that maybe winter downpours weren't the best time to practice Quidditch for seven hours. 

He reached the portrait hole unscathed by either Filch or Mrs. Norris only to find that the Fat Lady was in a deep, impossible-to-disturb slumber. Harry began yelling the password at her in as loud a whisper as he could manage, until finally he gave up, wrapped himself in a cloak, and fell asleep on the ground in front of the portrait hole. 

When he woke next, he was considerably warmer. His hair still felt slightly wet, but his head was lying on something quite warm. He groaned, prying his sleep-filled eyes open. He blinked several times before he finally recognized the worried face of Ginny Weasley staring down at him. It took him several more moments to realize why he was so warm—one, he was sitting in front of the fire, and two, his head was in Ginny's lap.

Immediately he shot up, knocking heads with Ginny halfway up and ending up back where he started. 

"Ow." was all Ginny said, rubbing her forehead.

"Er—sorry," Harry tried to say, but failed—his voice was gone. 

"You're hoarse, aren't you?" Ginny said quietly. "Laryngitis, I'd say. Maybe we ought to take you to Madam Pomfrey."

Harry shook his head violently, nearly falling out of his comfortable position. 

"Well thenHermione and I will tend to you." Ginny eyed him with sympathy before adding, while biting her lip, "You might not be able to be in the match tomorrow."

Harry groaned, then stopped instantaneously, feeling his throat catch on fire. 

"Don't speak or say anything, and your voice might come back," Ginny told him.

"Thanks for warning me," he whispered back in a scratchy voice. "Wand?"

Ginny handed him his wand. He twirled it around, concentrating hard on a simple spell, until letters formed in the air. _"What time is it?"_ they said. 

"Four thirty in the morning," Ginny said quickly. 

_"Why're you up, then?"_

"I waited up for you," Ginny responded in a quiet voice, her cheeks tinged pink. "When you didn't come I got worried."

Neither moved for a moment, then words formed again.

_"Thank you."_

Again, there was a pregnant pause. Then Ginny spoke again, a small smile appearing on her face.

"What are friends for?" 

"NOOOOO! HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO US?!" Fred and George continuously yelled skyward the whole of Friday morning, seemingly cursing God. 

"WE DON'T ASK FOR MUCH, DO WE?!" 

"NOOOOOOOO!"

"WHY!" they said simultaneously. 

Harry was bedfast, lying in his four-poster and feeling weak and helpless. Madam Pomfrey, though reluctant she was to release him after her inspection, having wanted to tend to Harry herself, had signed him a pass from class. It seemed he had caught pneumonia from the cold. So his Friday started off horribly, the day of the match. Ginny came to him in between her classes to check his fever and give him a potion to cure him. 

Harry felt helpless and weak, but he couldn't have fought it if he'd tried. Every muscle seemed to ache with pain when he tried to do anything, and even worse were the cold chills he felt. He kept several layers of cover over himself at all times. 

By the time of the Quidditch match, Harry was feeling alone and depressed. Ginny hadn't been reluctant at all in her decision to stay with him during the match, and had even spoken with Dumbledore about arranging a view screen of the game for the Gryffindor fifth years' dorms. He had agreed and now Harry could watch the action of the game as a Muggle would watch a sports game—only without wires. 

Ginny cared for him as a mother would her child, only there was something that continuously flickered in her eyes that told Harry something rather unsettling that he didn't even discuss with himself. 

The screen flicked on, taking up the whole of a wall opposite Harry's bed. Several people were walking around on the pitch, and snow was falling gently from the sky. 

"Welcome to our game today!" came Lee Jordan's voice from nowhere. It sounded a bit gloomy, but he tried to feign cheerfulness. "I'm very sorry to inform you that everyone's favorite Gryffindor Seeker—" he paused, and Harry supposed McGonagall had reprimanded him "—is sick with pneumonia." Groans sounded from the Gryffindors in the crowd. "But he is watching this game from his dorm. Give him a warm welcome today, would you?"

Applause rang out as the door to the dorm flew open. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny walked in, wearing identical expressions of amazement at the wide screen. Harry grinned. 

"Game's about to begin," he said quietly in his scratchy voice. 

Ginny plopped down next to him (pneumonia wasn't supposed to be contagious, Madam Pomfrey said), ruffling his hair in what could only be described as an affectionate way. 

"How's my little baby?" she cooed teasingly.

Harry glared falsely at her, then coughed a bit.

"Good, good," he said. 

"Take your potion, Harry-warry."

"Please try to refrain from calling me that," said Harry wincing at the mushy name. 

She handed him a goblet full of acid green liquid. Harry's nose wrinkled up as it always did, then he closed his eyes and drained it in one gulp. He pulled a face at Ginny.

"I know it tastes bad, but it'll help," she said quaintly.

"Help me get better or throw up?" Harry said, giving her a lopsided grin.   


"We brought you some food," said Ron, grinning over at his sister and best friend, who were at a very close proximity to each other—he had somehow lightened up about Ginny and Harry's relationship with each other. 

"Could you save it for later? I couldn't eat now if I tried," Harry muttered. 

Hermione put a charm on it to keep everything warmed that needed to be, and Harry's eyes once more flew to the viewing screen. Lee Jordan had started announcing again.

"And now, here comes your Gryffindor Quidditch team!" he shouted. "Defending champions of the House Cup. Two Weasleys, Johnson, Bell, Joseph, Spinnet, and, filling in for Harry Potter, Dean Thomas! Give em a round of applause!" Seven red blurs shot out from the locker rooms and applause rang out from everywhere. "Now here comes Ravenclaw! Chang heads this team, then Boot, Ackerly, Quirke" he continued ticking off names as blue blurs shot out of the locker rooms.

"Dean's a Seeker?" Harry said, shocked.

"Not really, but he was the only one to volunteer for the job," said Ron quietly. 

The game started quickly for Gryffindor; five minutes into it, Katie scored on a pass from Alicia, making it ten to nothing. Kirk was challenged time after time after time, and each time he made a spectacular save. However, as Cho's tactics were to follow the other team's Seeker, the Snitch was nowhere to be seen. Harry found himself searching for it.

"No one'll ever get the Snitch," he muttered crossly. "If Dean doesn't see it, that is. Cho's just going to follow him around unless she sees it."

Meanwhile, Lee continued commenting on the game.

"Spinnet takes the Quaffle down the pitch, pass to Bell—watch out, Katie! Bludger coming your way! Good swerve! George, where were you to protect your—" a muffled word followed this, one Harry barely understood as "_girlfriend"_. He smirked towards Ron, who sighed.

"Constant letter-writing all summer between Katie and George and Fred and Angelina," he said in a disgusted tone. Hermione gave him a sly smile upon noticing this, and a wink. Ron's ears went red.

"Pass back to Spinnet. Taken towards Ackerly, pass to Bell, shot! GRYFFINDOR SCORES! Twenty to nothing, Gryffindor lead, and Quirke takes the Quaffle. A Bludger hit by one of the Weasley twins—no idea which one—goes zooming towards her, she passes it just in time to Boot, Boot takes it down all alone, goes left, then right, SHOT! SAVE, JOSEPH! Quaffle to Spinnet. Spinnet hurls it towards Bell, Bell takes it down towards Ackerly once more. She streaks down, takes a shot—no, pass—it goes straight to Johnson, SCORES! Thirty to nothing, GRYFFINDOR!

By an hour later, Gryffindor was leading one hundred ninety to nothing. Harry had seen the Snitch several times, but it was at no avail that he shouted at the screen—it only hurt his throat. 

Finally, Cho dived and came up with the Snitch clasped tightly in her hand, a look of triumph upon her face. 

"Chang gets the Snitch, but guess what! GRYFFINDOR WINS, ONE NINETY TO ONE FIFTY!" shouted Lee happily. 

The Gryffindors poured out of the stands and Ron, Hermione and Ginny whooped and shouted. Harry couldn't remove the dopey grin from his face that was plastered there as the Gryffindor Quidditch team slammed into each other in midair in joyous melancholy. 

"ONLY THE FINAL LEFT!" Harry heard Fred shout. 

Moments later, they rampaged off the pitch, shouting happily. Harry laid there on his bed for several moments, not believing the joyousness of the moment. He also felt angry for not being there, but at least they had won. 

Ginny hugged him tightly and, acting very daring, kissed his cheek. Harry felt himself go scarlet, wondering if steam was coming out of his ears. Hermione and Ron only grin knowingly at the pair of them, which only caused Ginny's face to match Harry's in color. 

To save him from his embarrassment, the door burst open at that moment, and in barged the whole Gryffindor house, headed by Fred, George, and the rest of the team. Though they appeared apprehensive about his sickness, they crowded around his four-poster.

That night, Gryffindor House partied in the fifth year boys' dorm, chatting and talking as if they were in the common room. Ginny finally ushered them all out around two o'clock in the morning, saying that Harry needed rest if he wanted to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow. The Gryffindors reluctantly agreed, only Ron, Neville, Hermione, Dean, and Ginny staying with him. 

"Take your medicine," said Ginny in a mother-like tone. 

Harry drained his goblet once more, groaning and pulling a face. 

"By the morning you ought to be well," she said, satisfied. 

"Why couldn't Madam Pomfrey have just give me an instant cure?" Harry muttered.

"I believe it's against the law here to give instant cures to non life-threatening occurrences," said Hermione loftily. 

"I've had bones mended that weren't life-threatening," Harry said, frowning.

"Well then, maybe there's not an instant cure," said Ginny smartly, smiling down at him. 

"There should be," Harry complained. "Pneumonia hurts."

"Well, I ought to get to bed," said Hermione. She gave Ron a quick kiss on the cheek, causing him to blush, then gave Harry an encouraging wave and smile.

"I'll be heading off, too," said Ginny, sighing as she glanced at her watch. "'Night, Harry."

And she kissed his cheek as Hermione had kissed Ron's. Harry turned red as his best friend, then shut his eyes tightly, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	21. Moony and Janet

A/N: Just a forward warning: This chapter is very confusing if you rush to conclusions very quickly—so don't. Be sure to read everything correctly, and you'll understand perfectly what's happened by the _end_ of the chapter. Not the beginning, not the middle, but the _end_. There were parts when I reread it that even _I_ was lost and confused, so just bear with me. This is a dark chapter.

****

Chapter Twenty- One

Moony and Janet

__

"Escuro Phoenix!" 

A long, dark object shot from the length of Lord Voldemort's wand. It flew up into the air, settling quietly over the Forbidden Forest near Hogwarts. It slowly slithered through the air, eventually taking the form of what appeared to be a phoenix, silhouetted darkly against the still night sky. 

Several of the Death Eaters that formed a circle near Voldemort rustled slightly. A shiver passed through the ranks of the circle, one thing going through each of their minds: _What's he doing?_

"Merely distracting the learning process at Hogwarts," said Voldemort, as if reading their minds. He did not face them, but continued on, almost lazily, "They will know, then, that the phoenix's word was true, is true. Maccie, come here."

"Yes, Master," said a female voice as a hooded figure stepped forward. The figure was rather short; the rest of the Death Eaters rose tall around her. "What would you have me do?"

Voldemort casually scratched his chin before responding, carefully, "Lure them in, Maccie. Bring each of them to me. Be sure that all of them are separate, their magical bonds are too great for me to possibly break if they are together. Bring them here. I want them by tomorrow evening at sunset. Wormtail, accompany her."

Another figure bristled out of the ranks, nodded once, then both of them left.

Voldemort slowly turned to face his servants, a sinister smile lighting his face.

"Reaper," he whispered. A form black as night suddenly appeared in the air next to him. "Urdai." The wood became alight with movement and whisperings as many gnarled creatures appeared on the edges of the clearing. "Chimaera." Two monstrous figures came into view as well. The smile grew. "Light it."

A flame began burning in the night sky. The shadows darkened, however, and within instants Voldemort had disappeared with a faint pop. The Death Eaters exchanged questioning glances, then disappeared off into the night. 

Only a torch with a burning green flame remained, dimly lighting the few feet around itself, flickering in anticipation.

***

When Harry woke up the morning following the Quidditch match, he felt one hundred percent better than he had the night before. 

Ginny had obviously been right in thinking that he would fare well after taking medication long enough. He bounced out of bed and pulled some Muggle clothes on, anxiously awaiting the Hogsmeade visit, wanting to escape the confines of the castle for the first time in days, years it seemed.

After glancing around the dorm (which was strangely silent, part of him vaguely made a note of) for a moment, he hurried downstairs for breakfast. He also very vaguely noted that his scar was paining him a bit, but instantly shoved aside any thoughts of Voldemort on such a promising day as today appeared to be. 

Harry plopped down next to Ginny at the Gryffindor table, Ron and then Hermione on his other side.

"Morning everyone," he greeted jovially. 

But apparently the true effects of Seamus's death had set in on them; no one returned his greeting except for Ginny, and she merely gave a small "hello" in his direction. 

"What's going on?" Harry asked, still quite perky. 

"Just sleepy," said Ginny. 

"You're sure Madam Pomfrey said that pneumonia's not contagious, right?" Harry asked in concern, feeling Ginny's forehead delicately. 

"Positive," she said quietly, offering him a smile small. 

"Then what's wrong with everyone?"

"I suppose it's just that since Seamus…well…you know…."

Dumbledore stood up at that moment, a grave look about his worn features. He glanced around calmly for several seconds as the tittering died down in the Great Hall, then cleared his throat.

"I regret to inform you," he began quietly, "that there has been another murdering." A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall as it often did lately, and Dumbledore waited for everyone to talk themselves into silence before saying, "Our Defense Against the Dark Arts' teacher, Professor Dol Tallow, was found dead near the Forbidden Forest last night, nothing left of his body but cinders."

Several people cringed. Harry was in total shock, as was Ginny; Ron and Hermione also gaped at Dumbledore, all thinking one thing: _He wasn't the traitor._

Dumbledore continued, looking graver than ever, "We will be looking into this murder very carefully. You will be permitted to go to Hogsmeade today, but you will be transported in the carriages and you are not to stray from the main street. The carriages will leave at seven o'clock sharp, so be ready for them."

He eyed them once more carefully, seemingly teetering on the edge of telling them more, then he sighed softly and sat back down next to Professor McGonagall, who patted his hand sympathetically. All of the professors appeared rather teary.

Hermione was the first to break the silence that had settled over the quartet.

"He couldn't have faked his own death, could he have?" she asked, appearing quite confused.

"I reckon he could have," said Ron slowly. 

"It's possible," Ginny said quietly, shrugging her shoulders very discretely. 

Harry, who was staring out the window, said nothing.

"What d'you think happened to him, Harry?" Ginny wondered aloud as they walked down the streets of Hogsmeade alone—Ron and Hermione had gone off on a few "errands," Hermione had said, but Harry suspected that that was not the case—Ron had had a very dopey grin on his face the entire time. 

"I don't know," said Harry truthfully. "Want a butterbeer at the Three Broomstick's?"

"Sure," said Ginny. 

They walked down the street in silence until finally they reached the Three Broomstick's, which sat undisturbed amidst the confused and panicked Hogwarts students. Ginny went ahead and got them a table, and Harry ordered the drinks. He plopped down next to Ginny moments later, two frothy butterbeers in his hands.

"Here you go," he said, offering one to the girl. 

She took it and took a long draught out of it, then gave him a dazzling smile that lit her features very vividly.

"Wow, she's beautiful," Harry said, thinking it was to himself. Ginny reddened slightly, but her grin increased, and he frowned slightly before realization dawned on him. "I said that out loud, didn't I?" Ginny nodded, now giggling slightly. Harry's face now matched hers in color. "Er—anyway—"

But Ginny had been overcome by a fit of giggles; she collapsed against Harry, chortling. Harry grinned down at her, watching as her face contorted as she laughed. 

_She's still beautiful, _he reflected, absentmindedly draping an arm around her to keep from being crushed against the window. _Do try to refrain from speaking aloud, though. You could let some dangerous things slip…._

Point taken.

"Having a laughing fit, are we?" Harry teased. Ginny's laughter increased. "Could we please—breath, here, you know? Oxygen intake? Oxygen is _good_, Gin. Not _bad_."

Ginny continued laughing, though, until tears were streaming down her cheeks and her face was beet-red. Finally she gained self control and began breathing rationally once more. Harry grinned at her.

"Makes you feel good, doesn't it?" he muttered. "Just laugh everything away…."

Ron and Hermione bristled in at that moment, both looking more flushed than ever (but not from the cold, Harry guessed) and holding hands. 

Ron distastefully eyed how close Harry and Ginny were sitting; barely an inch separated them. Harry just gave him a knowing grin after glancing pointedly at Hermione, and they wordlessly sat down opposite the aforementioned couple. 

"So, how'd your—er—_errands _go?" Harry asked, fighting a smile desperately. 

Ron and Hermione turned scarlet. 

"Very well, I take it," said Ginny, who was still laying partially against Harry. 

"How were you and Harry?" Ron asked in a falsetto tone. 

"Oh, we managed," said Ginny shortly, shooting daggers at Ron. 

"Well then—what say we go to Zonko's?" Harry piped up in an attempt to calm his best friend and his…Ginny down. 

It worked—Ron's expression turned boyish, more so than Kirk Joseph's, and he bounced up from his seat, nearly knocking Hermione clear off the bench in the process. 

"Let's go!" he said ecstatically. 

Hermione rolled her eyes to the sky, as did Ginny, but Harry only grinned. He lightly pushed Ginny to pry her off him, then grabbed her hand and followed Ron's figure.

A hooded figure watched them leave through the front door, then nodded seemingly to no one. 

Several minutes later, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione found themselves in Zonko's, looking around at all the various items Fred and George would kill for—even some that had the twins' names on them.

"They've gone public!" Ron exclaimed exuberantly, seeing several shelves of Canary Creams, which were being sold very quickly.

"Wow," said Harry, stunned slightly. 

"Guess Mum'll never teach them anything," Ginny muttered, trying to sound mature but smiling all the same. 

"Harry—good to see you," said a voice from nearby. Harry whirled around to see Remus Lupin standing there, looking rather winded. "How're you lot doing?"

"Great," said Harry. "You've seen Fred and George's success, I take it?"

Remus nodded smilingly. 

"What're you doing in Hogsmeade, anyway?" Harry asked.

The smile vanished from Remus's face slowly, replaced by a small frown.

"Oh—just a few errands here and there—trying to dispel the various rumors that have been afoot lately," he said evasively. 

"And his old girlfriend's back in town, right Lupin?" sneered yet another new voice. 

Remus remained calm as he eyed the potions master, who had just stepped in the joke shop (at least that's what it appeared, but he had obviously overheard their conversation). 

"If you're talking about Janet, then yes—she is here, Severus," he said easily. "But she isn't my girlfriend, and that is far beyond my reasoning of being here. If you must know—she's married anyway."

"_Was_ married, Lupin," said Snape icily. "Boot died the other day, murdered by Voldemort."

"How dreadfully awful," said Remus in a flat tone. "Good day, Severus."

He walked out the door, and something like triumph flickered in Snape's cold eyes. He looked at Harry and the others.

"Get back to school!" he snarled. "It's nearly seven."

"Yes, Professor," they chorused gloomily. 

Once outside and away from Snape, the quartet glanced uncertainly at each other.

"That was certainly interesting, wasn't it?" Hermione said.

"D'you reckon this Janet girl _was_ Lupin's girlfriend?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head, trying to shake the voices out of it. 

"I don't know…" he murmured softly. "We best get back…"

"Right, then, let's go," said Ron cheerfully. 

_Funny how everyone's so perfectly cheerful when one of our best teachers is dead, isn't it?_ thought Harry bleakly. _Yes, absolutely fascinating. Maybe they're trying to cover up—that's what I'm doing. Still wonder what killed him. Voldemort doesn't just burn people to a crisp and not take credit for it. Yes, it is rather odd, isn't it? Oh well…._

They boarded a carriage with Neville Longbottom to go back to Hogwarts.

"Evening, Neville," said Harry quietly. 

"Yeah," Neville muttered. There was silence for a moment, then Neville burst out, "I always liked Professor Tallow!"

"We all did," said Ron with a faraway look in his eyes. 

Midnight in the Gryffindor common room found Harry and Ginny sitting alone on the sofa before the fire, talking quietly to each other. Harry had started studying for the O.W.L.'s again, this time more vigorously than before—several of their professors had told them what they were going to be up against, and Harry wasn't ready.   


Nor were most of the other fifth years, but they didn't stay up late at night studying with a fourth year.

Harry didn't know why he was so keen to let Ginny help him study—Hermione would know more than Ginny, he knew—but something told him just to stay awake that night, and Ginny had offered to help. Of course he accepted the offer, as he did need to study, but there was something unsettling about the night…something that was out of place….

As Ginny flipped through books, Harry halfway listened, answering in the appropriate places. After what seemed like decades, something outside the window caught Harry's eye. 

_Great, just start hallucinating while we're at it, right? I'm _not_ hallucinating. There's a bright green light out there that shouldn't be—_

How d'you know it shouldn't be, hmmm? Shaddup. 

"Harry? Woo-hoo?" Ginny waved a hand in front of his face. Harry snapped to attention, giving her a sheepish look. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing…" he said, trailing off noticeably. "I'm real tired, Gin, I'd better hit the bed."

"All right. I'll just stay here for a while longer, I think."

"'Night, Ginny."

"G'night, Harry."

Harry drifted upstairs with no intention of falling asleep. He immediately grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and shoved it on over his clothes, then stuffed his wand in his pocket and crept back down the stairs. Ginny was still there, packing up the books they had been going through. Harry glanced longingly at her for several moments, then hurried towards the portrait hole. He looked back at Ginny and waited till her face was turned, then scurried out the portrait hole and down the halls, leaving a very confused Fat Lady behind him.

_Shit, the map. We're screwed. As long as there's not an Auror in here, we're fine. _

He hurried through the corridors until he reached the exit. No Dementors stood there, so he made it through easily without being caught. Once outside, he followed the light he'd seen from inside. Several times, the bushes rustled nearby and he'd draw his wand—only to see a squirrel or Kneazle scuttle away. He completely missed the snake that followed him the entire time.

The light led him to the Forbidden Forest near Hagrid's cabin (where he could hear Hagrid singing songs quietly to himself—at least, he hoped it was to himself). Harry glanced furtively around, then hurried into the wood. After walking for several minutes, a bush nearby that appeared orange caught his site. 

A centaur stepped into view, half man, half horse, and pawed over to where Harry stood frozen in place. It had orange fur, bright as ever, and Harry knew at once who's face he was staring at—Firenze, the centaur that he had only seen once before in first year. 

He had grown a lot in four years, it seemed; he now looked a lot like Bane had then, with wild hair and a ferocious appearance. 

_Can centaurs see through Invisibility Cloaks?_

"Of course we can, Harry Potter," said Firenze, his voice a whisper. "You should not remove that cloak. Get on my back, and I will take you where you need to be—back to Hagrid's."

Harry obliged, holding on tightly to the centaur's mane. 

"The Dark Lord lurks in the forest these nights, Harry Potter," said Firenze softly. "You should not be here. There is more evil than ever before here."

"What was that bright green light?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"An ancient Elven magic," was the only response that came.

Harry's mind began working again, but never did his thoughts drift back to Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

"The Dark Lord has brought one ancient legend back to life already," said Firenze as they neared the edge of the forest. "The Urdai live here now, mercilessly slaughtering many unicorns and many of my own kind. We have already lost many lives in the fight. Now another legend is stirring again. The Elven magic is strong here, stones of all sorts everywhere…just remember these words, Harry, and remember them well," he said as Harry climbed down and walked a bit away from him, "even a very powerful magical object created for destroying evil can be controlled by _any_one or _anything._ I bid you and your kind well tidings. Do not wonder near the forest at night."

Harry nodded once, then left the clearing and ran towards the castle, high cackles haunting him as he did so.

Somehow—he didn't know how—he ended up at the Quidditch pitch. The night around him was filled with dark shadows, ghosts of all sorts…he was losing consciousness…he didn't know why or how…something's not right…stones…magic…legends…_HELP ME!_

***

Demons danced in glee around him, even in his sleep. Nightmares consumed any blissful sensations he had. It was as though thousands of Dementors were around him at all times, eating his happiness like breakfast…his head pounded against his skull, his scar hurt worse than ever he remembered….

Harry pried his eyes open with all his might. A girl with short brown hair stood before him, and a man with the same kind of hair next to her. Harry blinked several times. The man was Remus or Romulus Lupin one, and the girl…well, he didn't know the girl.

"Harry, are you all right?" asked the girl quietly. 

_How does she know my name?_

"Who are you?" he choked out.

"My name is Janet," said the girl. 

Remus or Romulus or whoever turned to face Harry, his eyes alight with concern.

"Where am I?"

"The hospital wing, Harry," said Remus (Romulus?).

"Who are you?"

"Remus."

"Good," said Harry. "I was confused."

"Who else would I be?"

"Your brother."

"Harry—are you sure you're all right?" Remus asked. 

"Yeah, why?"

The vision broke before him, but not until he saw something like disbelief in Remus's eyes. Was it a dream? I'm not awake, am I?

_Wake up. _

I'm trying.

_Wake up, wake up._

My eyes won't open.

_WAKE UP!_

"I CAN'T!" 

Everything came into sharp focus for Harry. Every confusing detail about the events that had just occurred left in a whoosh, as well. One glanced around him told him all he needed to know. 

Lord Voldemort stood there, a cruel smile lighting his features, and a few feet beyond him were the Death Eaters.

He was in the hands of Voldemort.

Ron woke up the next morning to panicked whispers around his bed. He sat up, scratching his head and rubbed his eyes, then peered through his curtains. 

He got a lovely glimpse of Hermione's bottom. 

"Er—what're you doing in here?" he mumbled. 

Hermione and Ginny jumped and sprang around to look at Ron's sleepy face.

"Ron—Harry's gone," said Hermione in a jumpy voice.

"Where?" Ron said. 

Ginny surprised him by slapping him across the face.

"What'd you do that for?!" he yelled, his cheek stinging. 

"Harry is _missing_, Ron!" Ginny said. "He's not at breakfast table, he's not at Hagrid's, he's not here, in the common room—"

"I get the picture," Ron muttered. "He's a big boy, Gin, he can take care of himself now."

BAM! 

"OUCH!" shouted Ron, his other cheek stinging. 

"Aren't you worried about Harry?" Hermione said, the blade of her hand still raised from the slap she'd just delivered to Ron. 

"Why should I be? He _can _take care of himself, you know! Maybe he just went for a walk!"

"We're not allowed outside, remember?!"

"Okay, minor setback. Just say something bad _did_ happen to him—Dumbledore would tell us, wouldn't he?"

_"Misses Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and Mr. Ron Weasley report to Professor Dumbledore's office immediately."_

"Happy now, Ron?"

"Calm down, Herm," said Ron soothingly to Hermione as they walked to Dumbledore's office. "He could want to see us for…anything! Maybe you—no, I don't want to be slapped again," he added as an afterthought, breaking in mid-sentence. 

"What's the password?" Ginny murmured as they reached the gargoyle's statue.

"Licorice Sticks," Hermione said.

The gargoyle sprang to life and jumped aside. Ron led the girls into the room, then up the stairs and into the office of the headmaster. Dumbledore himself was sitting in a chair behind his desk, looking out the window. 

"Pro—Professor?" said Ron uneasily. "You, uh, you wanted to see us?"

Professor Dumbledore turned around, a withered look in his eyes. He gestured for them to sit down. Ron glanced around uncertainly, cursing himself for believing the girls' rubbish, but worrying about Harry nevertheless.

"What is it, Professor?" he asked, focusing his attention on Dumbledore.

The headmaster sighed audibly, then conjured a cup full of water and took a long draught. 

"Harry is not here," said Dumbledore calmly. "He is close by, but not in this castle. I feel his magic's presence nearby, I believe in the Forbidden Forest, but he is not here."

Ron's heart sank. Ginny looked like she was near tears, Hermione as well. 

"If Voldemort has him, then there is nearly nothing I can do," said Dumbledore quietly. "The only way to survive for Harry is to remain as calm as he always is. You mustn't go after him on a flit and get yourselves killed. I know Harry is your friend, but dying is not worth it at this point and time. Stay inside at all times, do not stray outside or even go anywhere with teachers. You will be excused from your outdoor lessons for the time being."

The trio nodded solemnly. 

"God be with Harry Potter."

***

It was all like a very highly colored dream for Harry. He vaguely remembered Wormtail hoisting him into a large paddock and throwing him his wand. He remembered very clearly, however, the chants and shouts of the Death Eaters as they jeered for him to be killed. He remembered a cruel smile lighting Voldemort's face as a whistle sounded.

And then a huge roar brought Harry back into reality. 

A pair of Chimaera were on either side of him, claws drawn and monstrous fangs shown. Harry sank to his knees. _Why in hell does everything happen to me?_

It's really not fair.

_"Infernobolus!" _he shouted, raising his wand. 

Blue fire shot out at a Chimaera, but missed…and then the images swirled before him again, but his nightmarish unconscious state didn't end. 

Harry woke with a start. His surroundings were—the Forbidden Forest. No one appeared to be around him, though. His robes were torn in several places, and sweat was beading down his face. His wand was still in his pocket, and the Invisibility Cloak was still wrapped around him. 

_A dream,_ he thought vaguely. _It was a dream. I'm fine. I just fell asleep out here._

He laid back down for several minutes, then pulled himself up, glancing around. His jaw nearly dropped—gazing around him in a grand fashion were five adult unicorns and three pure-gold babies. They pawed at the ground as they ate, seemingly oblivious to his presence. 

Then he remembered he was wearing the Invisibility Cloak. 

There were also at least ten centaurs in the meadow beyond the clearing he was in, Firenze included in the pack. Firenze stared in Harry's direction, then smiled warmly at him, gesturing for him to remove his cloak. Then, to his horror, a voice spoke to him in his head. 

_This is a peaceful place, Harry Potter. The unicorns will not leave in your presence—you're a kind and generous person. _

Harry slowly pulled off his cloak as he recovered from the initial shock of being spoken to without speaking. A few of the unicorns glanced up at him, but it was nothing more than a passing glance. 

_You can pet them if you want to._

Harry walked over to where a foal stood grazing, extending his hand. Surprisingly, the unicorn raised its head and nipped his hand with its tongue. 

_That's Stalit. She's a girl, obviously. Usually very hostile._

Harry uneasily glanced over at Firenze, who was grinning again. "Very funny," he mouthed. The unicorn, Stalit, kept nipping his fingers with her tongue before going back to grazing. 

_You can talk aloud, you know._

"Oh." Harry scratched his head. "Where is this place?" he asked Firenze. 

"A golden meadow where evil cannot enter," the centaur responded. "This is where the last remaining true elf lived, in these caves surrounding the area. We're in the Forbidden Forest, by the way."

"Where—how did I get here?" Harry asked, still very clearly confused.

"You were disturbing the foals while they slept by your nightmares—you kept screaming in your sleep at the pitch—so one of the mothers went and got you to calm you by bringing you here. Nightmares can't enter here either."

"Oh. Well that's comforting." He paused for a moment, then crashed on, "So Voldemort never had me?"

This time, every centaur and unicorn's head raised and looked at Harry. Firenze looked apologetic. 

"They're not used to hearing the Dark Lord's name," he said. "Try to say You-Know-Who in front of them, please? Thank you. And no, the Dark Lord never had you. It was all part of your nightmare. Just relax. Today is Sunday, so you can stay here the day and I will take you back to the school."

Harry nodded, an odd quirk on his face.

"All right, then." He glanced around. "Could you show me around?"

Firenze grinned. 

"I was wondering when you'd ask that."


	22. The Girl With Kaleidoscope Eyes

Chapter Twenty- Two

**A/N:** Brief—don't ask me why and how two teenagers can sneak out of the Gryffindor tower without an Invisibility Cloak or any other protection without being stealthy at all and make it to the owlery and back to their common room unscathedgo along with it for the sake of my sanity—I don't feel like rewriting that portion and prolonging not posting this. Thank you for your time and cooperation. Anda happy chapter! Happier than most of mine, anyway.

**Chapter Twenty- Two**

**The Girl With Kaleidoscope Eyes**

Harry followed Firenze down a long, ironclad path that seemed to be leading them deeper into the forest than already they were. Harry didn't particularly mind at this point, as Firenze had assured him that no evil could enter the areas surrounding the unicorns' grounds. Though unsure of the centaur's word he was, it still comforted Harry to know that at least _some_thing was protecting him other than himself.

As they walked, Firenze's hooves clattered eerily against the iron path, and Harry could even hear his own shoes lightly tapping the ground. He had left his Invisibility Cloak behind, of course, but his wand was securely in his back pocket, ready for emergencies. 

"The path will open any moment into the gardens," said the centaur suddenly.

Sure enough, several moments later, walls of green began fading slowly into place. They half reminded Harry of the third task from the Triwizard Tournament, the way they rose several feet in the air like a maze. Firenze must have seen the hesitation cross Harry's face briefly, as he slowed their pace slightly (they had been walking rather quickly).

"Anything wrong, Harry Potter?" he questioned softly, his voice resounding throughout the chamber-like gardens.

Another moment's indecision passed between the two before Harry spoke again.

"Yes," he said firmly. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Harry glanced around, the sound of a water flow now reaching his ears. "What's that noise?" he quipped curiously. 

"There are several rivers that run through the forest, and we have the fortune of hosting their intersection point," said Firenze, his eyes glowing in happiness. "Over there is Bane River, named after Bane himself, to the right is the Midway River; it runs through the central-most point of the Forbidden Forest, and just ahead is the Tusle River, it's the most rapid, and the last one we just namedthe Tallow River, after your Defense teacher this year."

Firenze trailed slowly off, his eyes boring into Harry's. Harry couldn't help but look uncomfortably away, pain blossoming in the pit of his stomach. 

"I'm sorry for reminding you," prompted Firenze upon seeing the human's reaction. "I should not have done so."

"It's all right," Harry said vaguely. "Where are the actual gardens?"

Firenze began walking again in the direction Harry assumed was the gardens, so he followed briskly. The trail lightened a bit up ahead, he noted, and just as they were reaching the light, somebody called out Harry's name.

"Hey—Harry!" 

Harry whirled quickly around after recovering from the initial shock of being addressed so loudly in such a tranquil place. Robbie McKinnon was fast-approaching, wearing a look of amazement, her eyes round with some kind of emotion Harry wasn't used to seeing. 

"Evening, Firenze," she said jovially, bounding down the path after them. 

Harry quizzically looked over to Firenze, who smiled kindly. 

"Yes, I've introduced Miss McKinnon around, shown her the neighborhood," he said quietly. "Really quite a nice girl," he added good-naturedly. "Good evening, Robbie!"

"Good to see you, too, Harry Potter," she teased easily. 

"Er—yeah, hello, Robbie," Harry said awkwardly. "Where's Kirk?" he added, scanning the surrounding area, getting used to never seeing the two of them out of each other's company. 

"I haven't brought him here yet, actually," she said quickly.

"Why not?" a befuddled Harry asked. "I figured you two never left each other."

Robbie obviously didn't want to answer, this; she hastily changed the subject.

"Come on, Firenze, let's show Harry the gardens!" she said excitedly before darting off towards the light.

Harry turned slowly to Firenze, who appeared to be deep in thought.

"What color are her eyes?" the centaur said quietly. 

"Blue," said Harry, "why?"

"Because the last time I saw her, they were green," Firenze stated, his eyes flicking open. 

They both stood in silence for a moment.

"You're not saying—surely you don't think that _Robbie_ is the traitor!" Harry exclaimed. 

"It is possible," said Firenze quickly, "that she has a form of eyes that change color—" they started walking after her "—called kaleidoscope eyes, but I've only seen that once in my life."

"Kaleidoscope eyes, eh?" 

"Yes, it's very rare. It could mean a number of things."

"Like what?" Harry asked, coming to an abrupt halt.

"Nothing I should tell you," Firenze said promptly. "I'm sworn to silence."

They walked the rest of the way in silence before the path opened completely up, revealing several magnificent creatures, formed by flowers of all sorts on the walls of the hedge.

"Wow," breathed Harry. He reached out and lightly touched a carnation that formed the beak of a duck. "Who built these?"

"Oriel Potter," said Firenze, very quietly. Had Harry's mind not been so bedazzled, he'd have made the connection, but, being in the current state it was, he couldn't properly think. "She was the elf who lived here. She took care of these gardens like they were her children"

Harry reached slowly out and was tapping a lily in the center of a spiral formation when without warning his forehead split with pain radiating from his scar. 

A scream sounded from his mouth, but he barely heard it as he collapsed to the ground, clutching his head as tears of pain splashed down his front. He thought he was going to die, black out completely, he even wanted to, if it would end the painhe rolled on the ground, his body writhing_help me_he pleaded silently_God help meI can't take the painI can't take itHELP ME!_

The words echoed in his mind over and over, the white hot pain, burning mercilessly on.

Then, very suddenly, the pain ceased completely. Harry's body was still twitching, however, as he shakily rose to his feet. Firenze looking worriedly on. 

"What happened, Harry?" he asked immediately.

"I" he panted unsteadily, "don't know." He regained his composure quickly, then asked, a bit more rationally this time, "Where's Robbie?"

Firenze glanced around.

"Must've left," he muttered contemptuously. 

Harry said nothing, his mind beginning to process the information. 

"What do you know that I don't, Firenze?" he quipped suddenly. 

The centaur eyed him wearily for a moment, and ended up saying nothing.

"I know you know something more than you're letting on," Harry pressed quietly. 

Firenze sighed perceptibly. "The girl with kaleidoscope eyes" was all he murmured before hastily sputtering, "You'd better get back to the school now, Harry Potter. Feel free to come back any time you wish."

Harry suspiciously eyed the centaur for several moments, who averted his gaze elsewhere. After several moments, he nodded slowly.

"See you later, Firenze."

He walked back to the edge of the path, grabbed his cloak and hastened to pull it on, then glanced back at the centaur, whose attention had turned to the paling skies. Shaking his head, Harry wistfully walked away, silently cursing Voldemort.

***

January left with yet another wild thunderstorm, gales of wind whistling by in the upper towers of Hogwarts. The thirty-first seemed to drawl itself out with the storm as well, making the day longer and longer. Dumbledore announced at dinner that night that Mundungus Fletcher would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts for the remainder of the year. Fletcher was a pompous, rather short wizard (Ron and Harry were both taller than him) that seemed fairly jovial and boisterous.

After the storm finally subsided on the second of February, Fred and George announced that there would be a Quidditch meeting for Gryffindor team that night. Harry reluctantly marched to the pitch with the rest of the team, not wanting practice to start up again so soon. 

"All right, now we've nearly got this thing in the bag," Fred started, glancing anxiously at his and George's team.

"And Hufflepuff stomped Slytherin, so we're in the clear for that—Slytherin will have to win by one hundred points to even have a hope of winning the cup itself."

"And I know that all of our team—other than the respective Keeper—" Kirk grinned broadly "—have major tests to study for, but we—"

"—feel that this is much more important. Think of what this could do for our future careers!"

"We might even play Quidditch professionally, if we play our cards right!" 

"So you'll be expected to arrive every Sunday at six o'clock to practice. You're dismissed for now, though. Get some rest."

Breathing heavy sighs of relief, the team trooped off the pitch, but Fred and George held Harry up. There was an odd glint in each of their eyes as they smiled mischievously.

"We have some very_interesting_ things to cover" began George, concealing his happiness expertly.

"But business before pleasure, so here's the outstanding news for you."

"The coach of the English Quidditch team himself will be observing the entire team next game, to see if any of us have potential for the team."

Harry's mouth fell open, shock waves sweeping through him before happiness overwhelmed him, too.

"That's great! You guys might actually get to play for England!"

"It's not us particularly, though it would be nice," dreamed Fred momentarily.

"We thought _you_ would have a better chance than anyone to make it, mate."

Another stunned silence followed George's words. Harry's eyes became unusually round as he glanced from Fred to George. Surely they didn't mean—

"He told us that the youngest they could play someone professionally is fifteen," George said soberly.

"Which means that our little Seeker may be a big boy now!" Fred exclaimed delightfully. 

"You mean—I could really play for—_seriously_?!" Harry sputtered. "I'm not sure, thoughwait, what am I saying?" he added, wincing slightly at his own stupidity. "That'd bewow!"

"You're telling us!" said Fred happily.

"And Oliver's been accepted onto the team for next season, so he would be there to look after you," George added, smiling slightly. 

"The only thing is that you'd either have to get your aunt and uncle accustomed to your leaving nearly every other week, or"

"live with us the summer!" 

The twins beamed at their own brilliancy. Harry was overcome with mixed emotions of happiness, ecstasy, and still, shock. He opened his mouth to say something, decided nothing was appropriate, and mouthed soundlessly.

"I'd love it!" he said finally. 

The twins glanced at each other, smiling appreciatively. 

"Knew you wouldn't want to miss the chance, Harry," said Fred with a gleam in his eye. 

"We thought we'd tell you, just to make sure you don'tget sick or something like last time."

"I'll stay in good health, I promise you," said Harry seriously. "What else did you want to tell me? I'm kind of knackered here, only." 

Fred and George exchanged impish glances.

"When you go to potions tomorrow, be sure to tell Hermione to answer every question correctly that Snape asks," said George quietly. 

Harry's brow furrowed, confusion and suspicion evident on his face.

"She does that anyway, though."

"Just make sure she especially does tomorrow, though. And here—" Fred gave Harry what appeared to be a tape recorder. 

"Record what goes on in class with that."

"But—it won't work, it's a Muggle item," said Harry, rather befuddled at their strange attitude.

"We've wired it off magic so that it does work," said George, waving an impatient hand. 

"Just do that for us, and we'll be eternally grateful," said Fred, winking.

Harry eyed them strangely for a moment, then nodded slightly. 

"I'll be going to bed now, though. Goodnight Fred, George."

They waved merrily after him. Harry left the pitch, Firebolt in one hand and tape recorder in the other. He paused slightly, eyeing the tape recorder skeptically, then grinned to himself. Potions could certainly end up being a very_learning_ experience, if Fred and George were as good at pranks as they said. 

From experience, Harry knew they were.

Harry disdainfully eyed Professor Snape as the potions master glided idly into the dungeons the next day. He pulled the twins' tape recorder out of his pocket and sat it carefully on the edge of his desk. Ron gave him a funny look as he punched the record button. Harry gave Ron and Hermione a small, lopsided grin, a twinkle in his emerald eyes. 

Snape glanced around the room, a cruel smile lighting his features. Harry suddenly wondered where this happiness was coming from—what did the professor have in store for them next?

"Today, we will be making a standard Pepper-Up Potion," he said quietly. "Can anyone tell me the ingredients?"

Hermione's hand shot immediately up, but Snape expertly ignored it. Malfoy's hand slowly raised, the usual smirk on his pale face.

"Malfoy?" inquired Snape in an un-Snape-like tone. 

"Well, Professor," drawled Malfoy easily, "the potion's main ingredients are peppers, hot sauce, and the hair of a mlipper."

"That is incorrect, Malfoy, and five points from Slytherin for prolonging your foolish answer," Snape snapped, then his eyes widened. 

The Gryffindors simultaneously burst into laughter at the look of horror on each of the Slytherins' faces. Malfoy's smirk vanished without a trace, leaving a very disgruntled look in its place. 

Snape seemed to have lost all control of himself; he gestured for Hermione to give her answer.

"P-peppers, hot sau—sauce, and—and a standard Pepper Breath charm," she choked out promptly between her giggles. 

"Correct, Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor!" said Snape in such a voice of enthusiasm that several of the Gryffindors fell out of their chairs in laughter. 

The gales of laughter had only barely subsided when Snape awarded ten points to Gryffindor for Neville's "outstanding potion," as Snape himself had put it. Tears were streaming down the Gryffindors' faces by halfway through the class, when it was finally time to test their potions. 

"I'll give whoever has the most peppered-up potion fifty points to their house!" said Snape happily and in an unbecoming tone that would've suited a five year old better than a sour professor.

Harry was forced to take a spoonful of Hermione's (forced because he knew he'd be bouncing around the rest of the day with her expertise) potion, which ended up being the best out of everyone's; Harry couldn't stop jumping around the classroom, and the Slytherins broke out into laughter.

"Fifty points to Gryffindor for the amazingly powerful potion done by Miss Hermione Granger," Snape exuberantly began, "and fifty points from Slytherin for their rude behavior towards Mr. Potter."

The Slytherins instantly shut up, mouths agape at their head of house. By now, not a single Gryffindor hadn't fallen out of his or her chair; they all rolled on the ground in laughter. The Slytherins looked angrily on; Snape watched them with a satisfied expression on his face, even a grin.

"Fifty points to Gryffindor for the amazingly powerful potion done by Miss Hermione Granger—fifty points to Gryffindor—amazingly powerful potion—fifty points from Slytherin—rude behavior—Mr. Potter." Fred played the tape for the whole of Gryffindor to hear, forwarding it to the good parts. The whole house was laughing harder than ever.

Fred and George bowed, receiving massive applause from everyone. 

"That was brilliant, you two!" shouted Angelina over the raucous, and Katie nodded fervently at her side. She bit her lip shyly, then suggested seductively, "Why don't we celebrate the turn of Snape to the light side?" 

The twins grinned at Harry as they were pulled away by Angelina and Katie. The rest of Gryffindor still howled with laughter.

After several hours of listening to Snape's humiliation (and after a monstrous party, celebrating the finer aspects of the day they had just experienced), just as the clock chimed four o'clock, Harry found Ginny through the rapidly decreasing crowd of people. 

"Want to go with me to the owlery?" he asked quietly. "I'm going to owl Hagrid to see if we can go to his cabin for tea tomorrow." 

"Sure," said Ginny. Then she added, reluctantly, "I thought after your escapade that we weren't allowed outside anymore, though."

Harry blushed slightly, recalling that everyone had thought Voldemort had had him when he'd been in the gardens—something he had straightened up when he'd walked into his dorm, having been greeted by mourners of the death of Harry Potter. Professor McGonagall had been simply furious with him for not telling anyone where he was going, and had forbade him and the other three of going outside without teacher chaperone. 

"Well, if I owl Hagrid, he'll escort us, couldn't he?" Harry asked innocently. 

Ginny gave him one of her torn looks, then nodded. 

"Where're Ron and Hermi, by the way?" she asked as they headed out of the portrait hole.

"Off snogging, most likely," said Harry vaguely. 

Ginny giggled. 

"They missed Snape's performance."

Harry eyed her wearily for a moment. 

"Er—they were witnesses to it, remember? They're in my class."

Ginny turned scarlet this time. 

"Right," she muttered. "Sorry, it's just been one of those days."

"Snape wasn't ever so delighted to see your class, then, I take it?" Harry asked, grinning broadly. "I don't remember ever having such an enjoyable potions."

Both chortled as they neared the owlery. 

"Hedwig, yoo-hoo?" Harry said quietly. Hedwig fluttered down to where he and Ginny stood, nipping at his fingers affectionately. Harry suddenly realized he didn't have a piece of parchment or quill with him. "Er—you wouldn't happen to have a quill, would you?" he asked. "Or parchment?"

"Magic, Harry, conjure one," Ginny teased. "You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"Er—right." 

Harry, after conjuring a quill and parchment, scrawled a short note to Hagrid and gave it to Hedwig. 

"Do be quick," he said as she flew briskly off. He nodded, satisfied, then glanced curiously at the very-silent Ginny. 

"Anything wrong, Gin?" he asked in concern.

Ginny gave him a blank look for several moments before shaking her head, as though trying to clear it.

"What was that?" she asked in confusion. "Sorry, I got a bit preoccupied there."

Harry grinned at her. 

"You're all right, aren't you?" he repeated delicately. 

"Yeah," she said softly. 

But she didn't look fine to Harry; her face was as pale as it had been when she'd been in the Chamber of Secrets, and there were sags under her eyes.

"Are you sure?" he prompted gently.

She nodded solemnly. 

"Yes."

"We'd better get back to the common room before they start thinking we're doing things we shouldn't be," smiled Harry, causing Ginny to blush slightly. 

She assumed a look of angelic innocence, then sidled in close to Harry, her arms going up impishly around his neck. He nervously glanced at her.

"You mean you wouldn't want to take a leaf out of Ron's book?" 

This question stumped Harry. He frowned thoughtfully at Ginny, who now sported a dazzling smile. His insides fluttered. 

"Er—well—uh—" he sputtered off unintelligibly. 

Ginny cackled a Fred-and-George cackle and dashed off after kissing his forehead. As Harry watched her go, a smile small began to play at his lips. The sun had started to faintly rise in the pale dawn sky, and several of its warm rays began to trickle into the owlery. 

His smile broadened, then he ran merrily after Ginny.

As Harry walked down for breakfast the next morning, his eyes sagging from staying up all night (though the other Gryffindors were like that as well), Kirk Joseph bumped casually into him. 

"Morning, Kirk!" he greeted jovially. 

Kirk smiled, revealing a bloody lip and a gash above his eyebrow. Both were bleeding profusely. 

"Morning, Harry," he said, his voice still full of its usual happiness. 

"What happened?" Harry demanded incredulously. "How'd you get into trouble this early?"

Kirk's smile broadened. 

"Malfoy had quite a problem with me when I accidentally spilled milk all over him," said Kirk innocently. "He got a little shirty and hit me with his fist first, then with a piece of glass after I threw him onto the ground and cracked his ribs."

At that moment, Malfoy ran by, clutching his side and leaving a bloody trail, wailing, _"Shit, this hurts!"_

"He'll be fine in about seven weeks," said Kirk lightly, rubbing his forehead to get the blood off of it. "I only broke two ribs. Actually," he added seriously, seeming to immensely enjoy the look of shock on Harry's face, "I'd only meant to break one, but the other was just kind of a bonus, I guess. I just used a standard cross check on him without a hockey stick. Otherwise he'd have a hell of a few more ribs broke, trust me. Later, Harry, I'd better get this mended."

Wondering how on earth McGonagall hadn't seen the pair of them, Harry headed on down towards the Great Hall. It struck him how funny the whole situation was—a fifteen year old had lost a fight to an eleven year old. He laughed to himself before entering the Great Hall.

Tension seemed to have settled down over the hall; the Gryffindors and Slytherins were glaring at each other—through the Gryffindors' laughter—and the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs seemed to be debating which side to take. Obviously they'd witnessed the whole thing. Harry quickly darted over to a seat between Ginny and Ron, Hermione being on the other side of Ron.

"You've only just missed it, Harry!" said Ginny, trying to hide her excitement. 

"Yeah, I know, I passed Kirk," said Harry. "He said that he and Malfoy had a scrap."

"And a bloody good one at that!" Ron heaved, smiling serenely. 

"Watch your language Ron," Hermione reprimanded, though she, too, was grinning.

"It was hilarious to begin with," Ron explained. "Kirk started it by using a curse to spill Malfoy's milk, you know—just for fun. Malfoy took exception to it and punched Kirk's lip. It didn't even phase Kirk! His lip was bleeding, but he put both arms forward and launched himself at Malfoy with full force—you should've seen Malfoy's face! It was so awesome! Anyway Malfoy went down really hard onto the floor, then Kirk kicked him several times in the ribs. It was priceless!"

Harry chuckled at the looks the Slytherins were giving the Gryffindors, then vice versa. 

Hedwig swooped down towards Harry midway through breakfast, sporting a small note, presumably from Hagrid. 

Harry,

I'll meet you lot in the entrance hall at six o'clock tonight. I'll be glad to see you again.

Hagrid

Harry briefly told Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, then stroked Hedwig a moment before she took off. 

"I'll be glad to see Hagrid again," said Hermione. "I wondered why we hadn't gone to see him" she added in a scrutinizing tone. 

"Well—we've been studying and what not this year for the O.W.L.'s, haven't we?" Harry replied defensively. 

"Now, now, children, no fighting at breakfast." Fred grinned over at Harry from where he, George, and Lee sat, buried in a piece of parchment with lots of messy writing on it.

"What's that?" Ron asked in interest.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes are back," said Lee with a glint in his eyes. 

Harry, Ron, and Ginny all chortled. Hermione tried to look disapproving for a moment, then burst out laughing with them. 

"Going to open up your store when you get out?" Harry asked, very clearly amused. 

"We plan on it," said George hastily. "Long as Mum has anything to say about it, though—no, we're going to apply at the Ministry." He imitated a look of innocence that only increased their laughing. 

"You in on this at all, Lee?" Ginny asked curiously. 

"'Course I am," said Lee stoutly, "it's a gold mine!"

"What do Angelina, Katie, and Alicia have to say about this whole thing?" asked Ron, smirking. 

"And what about Quidditch?" said Harry meaningfully. 

The twins and Lee exchanged a glance—they obviously hadn't thought of this. 

"Good point, actually" trailed Fred. "It all depends on the final."

"Just be sure of yourselves," warned Harry severely. "You wouldn't want to miss out on a brilliant opportunity."

"Point taken, Harry," said George quietly. 

They rose with their parchment, then walked quickly away. 

"'Bye, guys!" Ginny yelled after them, sniggering. "What was that about Quidditch?" she added to Harry inquisitively. 

"Right, I forgot to tell you guys, didn't I?" he said quietly. "There's going to be a person representing the English Quidditch team observing our team and the Slytherins during the final. Fred and George acted like I had a good chance of getting on the team next season, and after all, the youngest they can pay someone for playing with them is fifteen—I'd be able to play if they wanted me."

Ron's mouth was hanging wide open.

"That's incredible, Harry!" he practically shouted. "Quidditch with England?! Wow!" 

Ginny's reaction was a lot like her brother's; she was excited for Harry more than anything. Hermione's reaction was as expected, though; she frowned worriedly at him. 

"Won't you get hurt a lot, though?" she asked quietly. "And you'll be gone most of the summer."

"Hermione, even I'm against you this time," said Ginny breathlessly, "it would be such an _honor_ to play Quidditch with _any_ national team, let alone _our_ national team!"

"Harry might even take them to the finals!" Ron added exuberantly.

Harry flushed brightly, beaming. 

"I reckon it would be a great experience," he said. "I'd love to do it, too! But first they'd have to want me"

"Be realistic, Harry!" Ginny said severely. "You're a fantastic Seeker!"

Harry turned even darker red. 

"C'mon, Ron, we've got band," he said stuttery. "Bye, Mione, Gin."

With that, he bounded from the Great Hall to prevent steam from coming from his ears and to retrieve his trumpet, which he supposed felt neglected—he hadn't practiced in forever. 

_Well. The sun certainly has finally come up after so long times of darkness._

_Don't rest so assured. The dark has only begun._

Harry jumped at the voice of Firenze in his head. 

_I need you to bring Ginny and Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger here as soon as you get out of school tonight. Come however you can and as soon as you can. It is urgent. _

_What, er, happened? _Harry found it odd talking to himself.

_Something's entered the gardens that shouldn't have._

***

COLORADO WON!!!!!!!!!! 3-1 FINAL SCORE, 4-3 IN THE SERIES! THEY WON THE STANLEY CUP! RAY BOURQUE AFTER 22 YEARS OF NOT WINNING! HURRAH!


	23. The Song Charm

**A/N:** Shorter than usual, I know, but rest assured that more is coming shortly.

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**Chapter Twenty- Three**

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**The Song Charm**

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The voice vanished at once after this startling revelation, leaving Harry quite alone; the voices in his head had even shut up for a pleasant change. It also seemed that Harry's ears had suddenly left for an early vacation without leaving a note, as everything turned deadly silent. 

_Well_, sniped a voice in his head after a moment, moderately assuring him of his sanity, _don't just stand there! Are you utterly daft, or is it just a mask? Go tell Ginny and the others, this is obviously important! Also shocking, thanks for being understanding._

He shook himself mentally, then hurried back the way he had just came, towards the Great Hall once more. The hall was still buzzing with the usual early morning passersby, but Harry's eyes immediately swept over the other people, looking for the fiery red Weasley hair. Unfortunately, only one head he spotted sported this hair; Ginny had obviously left, leaving Ron and Hermione to themselves.

He bounded down towards the couple, who both appeared to be quite dissolved into the conversation they were having. 

"Ron!" he yelled in the quietest voice he could manage under the circumstances—half the hall turned to curiously face the interrupter of their breakfast. Harry felt his face heat slightly and slid down into the seat next to Ron. After shooting him several disgruntled looks, everyone went back to their meals. 

Harry turned to Ron again.

"I thought you were gone," amended the red haired boy as he observed Harry. "Anything wrong?"

"Yes, there's something wrong," said Harry in a small voice. Dropping his voice even lower, he went on, "Firenze just spoke to me."

"Who's Firenze?" queried Ron. "I don't remember a Firenze being a student here."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Firenze is a centaur," he explained quickly. "I met him in first year in the Forbidden Forest. I saw him again the other day—that's where I was when you all thought Voldemort had me." Ron winced slightly at the name, something he hadn't done in a long time—though maybe, Harry reasoned silently, he hadn't winced entirely over the name. 

"Then how did he speak to you?" Hermione asked, suddenly picking up on the conversation. 

"He uses a Divination trick that lets you read people's thoughts and speak to them without actually speaking. It's really complex Divination, I suppose, because Trelawney never told us anything about that. But that's not important—what he said is what I was trying to tell you. He told me to bring you lot—you, Ginny, me, and Hermione—to the gardens. Said something had entered there that wasn't supposed to."

"Didn't give a reason why he wanted to see _us_ in particular, did he?" Ron quipped. "'Cause, bluntly, what help are we?"

"I've murdered Urdais before Ron," Harry reminded the two of them in a flat tone. "It's not terribly difficult. Just aim and hope it hits them or your dead five seconds later."

Grinning serenely at the looks of horror crossing their faces, Harry stood up. 

"Just be in the common room as soon as you get out of Arithmancy, Hermione, and we'll meet you there. Off to get Ginny, then, I guess."

"Don't tell Ginny anything," said Ron as Harry began to walk away. Harry turned slowly to face his friend, confusion evident on his face. "I don't want her in danger. She's too young to be going off on vendettas like we do."

"'Vendettas'?" Harry sputtered. "You think the things we do are vendettas'? Look Ron," he added reasonably, his anger subsiding, "I don't want her involved in this any more than you, but you have to face the facts. Ginny is as important as we are in anything we do from now on. You have to understand that."

"No," gritted Ron, his hands balling up to fists, though there was a pleading edge to his voice as he continued, "she's my sister, Harry. I don't want her hurt."

"Potter, Weasley, Granger—discuss this later," sneered a voice from nearby. Professor Snape stepped up in front of Harry, his crooked nose just reaching the tip of Harry's head. "Breakfast is over and class begins in ten minutes. Get out of here."

Grumbling to himself, Harry marched off without saying anything to Ron or Hermione. 

He was just going to get his trumpet when a thought hit him. He groped through his robes for his wand, then pulled it out and concentrated fully on the trumpet. 

_"Accio trumpet," _he whispered so that no one would hear. 

After waiting a few moments, the familiar buzzing noise reached his ears again; his trumpet case came zooming down the nearby stairwell and flew into his hand promptly. Harry smiled in satisfaction, then walked off to the entrance hall to wait for Professor Trins to escort he and the others to band. 

"Good morning, Harry," greeted Trins, just as exuberantly as ever, a grin spreading across his weathered face.

"What's so good about it, eh?" Harry grumbled. 

Seeming mildly surprised, Trins frowned.

"Welltry not to see things from that point of view," he suggested mildly. "Try to ask yourself what's _not _good about itso what isn't good about your day thus far?"

This time it was Harry's turn to frown as Trins gave him a quizzical glance from behind a pair of glasses. After several moments of silence between the two, the professor smiled.

"See? The day's perfection is just waiting for you to discover that it's there. Nothing can be too bad."

Ron, Dean, and Lavender arrived shortly, and Trins grinned once more. 

"Let's go, then," he said. "Oh yes, and if Professor Tari works with you at all today, you might need to watch out—only she's on a bit of a warpath this morning. She can be a tad—er—_eccentric_ under pressure."

The sun washed over them as they walked out into the crisp air. The weather had warmed considerably since January's thunder storms. The lake was sparkling in the sunlight, casting a bright glare on everything. 

"Professor, Draco Malfoy won't be making it today—" started Ron suddenly. 

"I know, Ron," said Trins sternly. "I understand Kirk had the fortune—er, that is to say _mis_fortune—of pummeling Mr. Malfoy in a ratherhilarious assault."

The four of them burst out laughing, and Trins eventually joined along with them. When they arrived at the glen used specially for the purposes of band and graduation ceremonies, they had gradually stopped laughing. Tari was storming through the minuscule amount of chairs, placing music on the stands in front of each one—which came to a total of five.

"You're late," said Professor Tari pointedly as Harry took his seat behind Ron and Lavender. Dean flopped down lazily next to him, slowly pulling his music out of his trumpet case. 

"Am I?" Trins wondered when a bell rang seconds later. A grin broke out across his face. "Er—you were saying something about our tardiness, I believe?"

"Oh, shaddup," snapped Tari. Harry and the others gave her incredulous looks. "Put up Bristol Bay Legend. We'll have to work it from the beginning I supposeunless you."

"I'll be happy to take the band through the piece, dear," coaxed Trins charmingly. "You just rest your pretty little self."

Tari gave him an exasperated smile before trudging over to a leather chair behind the platform used by the band professors to direct from. She plopped down in it with a sigh and seemed to fall instantly asleep.

"Ah, yes," said Professor Trins, eyeing the suspicious (and shocked) looks on the faces of his students. "Yes, wellBristol Bay, please."

Lavender voiced the inevitable question on all of their minds after a moment of silence—

"Are you and Professor Tari _dating?_" she asked keenly. 

To their delight and horror, a blush crept at the edges of Professor Trins's face. 

"Bristol Bay, please," he repeated, this time more sternly than before. Seeing Lavender open her mouth in protest to his lack of an answer, his eyes bulged slightly as he added menacingly, "Bristol Bay, please," through gritted teeth. Harry, Ron, and Dean didn't need telling four times; they quickly spread the music before them as Trins brought up his wand to conduct with.

Lavender didn't seem satisfied, though.

"But Professor—I want to know!" she said, apparently not knowing a better reason to press the matter.

"For heaven's sake, Murry, just tell the girl!" said an obviously-awake Tari without moving or opening her eyes. 

"No, we're not dating, Lavender," said Trins, an odd grin spreading across his face, "we're married."

Lavender let out a small squeal of either happiness or shock (Harry guessed, though, that it was more of a goody-I've-got-more-gossip-to-spread-across-Hogwarts kind of gasp) as Trins began directing, only to cut furiously off moments later.

"SEE?!" he shouted. "GET YOUR MIND ON THE MUSIC, MISS BROWN, AND OFF THE RELATIONSHIP OF MYSELF AND PROFESSOR TARI! WE ARE HERE TO PLAY BRISTOL BAY LEGEND, NOT DISCUSS MY LOVE LIFE! IS THAT QUITE CLEAR, MISS BROWN?!"

Spittle showered everyone through his little speech to Lavender, who shrank down in her chair and mumbled a small "okay" to him. The color gradually returned to his face as they began the song once more, and by the end he was perfectly cheerful once more. 

"What d'you reckon, Harry?" whispered Dean as Trins told them that they would be performing at the graduation ceremonies. 

"I reckon he's having a mood swing again," Harry responded thoughtfully after a moment. 

Dean sniggered loudly. 

"Dean, Harry!" Trins's voice whipped at them, startling them. "Pay attention!"

"Oh yeah," replied Dean in an undertone as a smile creased the professor's face once more.

"Thank you," he said coolly.

"Ginny—there's something going on," said Harry urgently when he found himself alone with the girl in the common room later that evening. 

Ginny's attention swiveled over to Harry curiously, her brown eyes round.

"What is it?" 

He quickly related to her all that Firenze had told him, carefully avoiding the details of his and Ron's argument to prevent any further sibling rivalry. 

"So we're going there tonight?" Ginny asked quietly as he finished. 

Harry nodded firmly.

"I'll lead you all there," he explained. "Bring your wand and meet me in the entrance hall in twenty minutes."

This time Ginny nodded in affirmation. 

"I'll be there."

Harry forced a very small, strained smile. "Thank you," he said, then wandered hurriedly upstairs to the boys' dorm. "Ron," he directed to his best friend, "meet me downstairs in twenty minutes, the entrance hall. Tell Hermi the same."

"All right," said Ron, tucking his wand into the pocket of his robes. 

Harry quickly shuffled through his trunk, searching for the Marauders' Map and Invisibility Cloak. He found both just as quick as he had arrived, then checked to make sure his wand was in his pocket. After being assured that all of these were in check, he stuffed his cloak in his other pocket, the map in yet another, and scurried on downstairs and towards the entrance hall.

By the time he reached the hall, the twenty minutes had elapsed into nothing; still there was no sign of Ginny, Ron, or Hermione. Checking his watch, he saw it was nearly four o'clock—lessons had ended at two, having only had band in the morning and double potions at noon, after lunch. Meaning that he and the others should've been there two hours ago.

_Well, had you not been dwindling through the library, we would be on time, wouldn't we, Mr. Potter? _he snapped at himself. He then smirked as another half of him added, _Last time I ever go to the library to look up information on song charms._

"I'm here, Harry," said Ginny as she rushed breathlessly up. "Sorry I'm a little late. Are Ron and Hermione here yet?"

Her answer came without Harry having to say anything as the aforementioned couple appeared through the crowd of people. Harry subsequently felt a dull throb in his scar as his mind shifted idly from seeing Ginny back to the task at hand. 

"How are we supposed to all fit under the cloak?" Ron asked in an undertone, his eyes slightly narrowed as he eyed Ginny.

"We can't," Harry responded in an equally flat tone, though it was Ron himself he was eyeing oddly. "I'll sneak out on my own accord, they won't expel me. You three get under the cloak and meet me at the edge of the forest nearHagrid's."

"Wait a second," said Ginny impatiently. "What cloak?"

Harry would've laughed out loud had the situation not been so serious. 

"Invisibility Cloak," he instead offered. "I've had it since first year. I'll keep the map."

"All right," agreed Ginny, satisfied with his explanation. She eyed Harry severely. "_Be_ _careful_." 

"I will," he promised. "You too. See you in a moment."

Ron led Hermione and Ginny off to a far corner, then disappeared from view. Harry cast a quick glance around, then pretended to fall into the large doors; one opened with a creak, just enough for Harry to hear three sets of feet scuttle quickly by. Harry once more glanced around, then hurried back upstairs to fetch his Firebolt.

Fortunately, Dean and Neville weren't in the dormitory, leaving him to himself. Harry grabbed his broomstick, pushed a window open slightly, swung his leg over and kicked off, soaring out the window and towards the forest. He urged his Firebolt to go faster, the wind tousling his hair worse than it already was; after several moments, he landed neatly next to Hagrid's cabin, a few feet into the forest. 

Harry swiftly pulled the hood of his cloak over his head as the forest loomed mysteriously around him, a fog settling slowly in.

"Harry?" whispered a voice from nearby. 

Harry jumped and spun around, his wand drawn before him. Ginny stood there, Ron and Hermione close behind her, their wands all out.

"Yeah, it's me," he said, relaxing his wand arm slightly. "Follow me, stick close."

He felt Ginny slyly grab his hand from behind his back and squeeze it tightly with her small one. He tossed his Firebolt down, and Ron threw the Invisibility Cloak over it, then they marched towards the gardens briskly.

"Keep your wands out," he nearly mouthed over his shoulder. 

Their footsteps crunched against the mixture of leaves and snow, reverberating eerily around them. Harry consciously heard every noise within a half mile away, it seemed; every rustle of leaves, every bird's distant chirping. He pressed forward, peering cautiously through the thick fog. 

After walking for what seemed an eternity, the meadow came into abrupt view, suddenly materializing all around them. For several seconds, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were lost in the moment, seeing the magnificently emerald-green grass, the marvelous fountains, and the various flowers blossoming all around. 

Harry, however, noticed a mild difference in the airgone was the minute tingling sensation of knowing he was in a place where no harm could befall himthe air was filled with a mysterious pretenselike someone was sucking out all of the happiness.

"Dementors," he whispered furiously. 

"What?" Ginny asked quietly, their being apprehensive having left upon entering the gardens. 

"There are Dementors here," whispered Harry, glancing through the haze. "I don't know where—I just know that they're here."

Ginny passed this information to Ron and Hermione, who appeared equally startled by the information. An eerie silence fell over the four of them as Harry glanced worriedly around. 

"_Lumos_," he muttered. A narrow beam of light shot out of his wand; he directed it up the ironclad path that he and Firenze had traveled on just a day before. The knowledge of that was somehow unsettling. He motioned for the others to follow him and started down the path. Ginny's hand once more found his as they walked.

The distant rumbling reached Harry's ears first; the roaring of the rivers that intersected here. 

"Just rivers," he said softly over his shoulder. 

There was a chorus of sighs of relief before long. Slowly, the gardens began to fade into sight on either side of them, forming walls of green that surrounded them. A dim light shown towards the end of the tunnel, marking the entrance to the actual gardens.

"Just ahead," said Harry quietly. 

And then, very abrupt once more, flowers started popping up. The formations that Harry had awed at just yesterday were all around them, feeling the air with a tingling sensation that comforted Harry slightly. Apart from that, the gardens were just as silent as the meadow had been.

"Wow," breathed Ginny as she, Ron, and Hermione wandered through the flowers. 

Harry directed his wand's light to his left, then right. There was nothing to either side, no sign of a struggle, a departure, nothing. Harry's heart skipped a beat, however, as he saw a narrow streak of crimson below himblood. Several feet in front of him was a pool of the same blood, the trail of it having led up there. A sickening nausea swept over him as he clutched his stomach and staggered backwards, right into Ginny.

"What's wrong?" she asked, seeing his appearance. 

Vaguely he gestured to the blood. Ginny's reaction was much like his as she stumbled a bit and looked away. 

"Whose is it?" she questioned, shielding her eyes from the sight by burying her face into Harry's shoulder. 

Harry said nothing for what seemed like a long time, then something clicked—where were Ron and Hermione?

"I dunno," Ginny mumbled when he voiced this question. Her eyes grew round as she suggested wildly, "What if something got them?"

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," said Harry reassuringly, though he himself wouldn't have put it past whatever was out there.

Suddenly a scream echoed in Harry's mind.

_"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

_"Stand aside, you silly girlstand aside."_

_"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"_

The familiar white mist swirled through the conscious half of Harry's brain as what seemed like an army of Dementors swarmed forward. 

"Do not perform the Kiss," directed a high voice. "Not yet."

_"Expecto Patronum!" _cried Harry, concentrating on the happiest thought he could conjure — seeing Lord Voldemort fall to the ground in a heap of ashes, dead. The white stag burst from his wand and shot at the Dementors, startling them. _"RUN, GINNY!"_ he shouted as loud as he could. 

He paused just long enough to see a trail of fiery red hair dart back the way they had come. 

_"Expecto Patronum!" _he yelped again, his wand wildly pointed over his shoulder as he ran. Another stag burst out and flew at the Dementors.

_"DO NOT LET HIM GET AWAY!" _yelled Lord Voldemort's voice. _"GET HIM! GET HIM!"_

Harry sprinted fast as he could towards the meadow, but it was at no avail; he tripped over a cobblestone and fell to his face. The Dementors glided out of the haze and towards him; a high cackle sounded from Voldemort; Harry held his wand tightly before him, knowing this was the end, but he'd give another spell a try.

_"DUCO CANTO!" _he shouted as loud as he could. 

Nothing moved for several moments. The forest was shrouded in mist as the Dementors came to a halt. Voldemort's laughter subsided as they all realized what spell he had used—a Song Charm. A very powerful Song Charm. Harry held his breath and waited, hoping against hope that it would work—

Suddenly a horrible screeching noise filtered through the still air, like the cries of a banshee or the merpeople when speaking above water. Harry's hands flew to his ears and shielded them from it, but the Dementors weren't quick enoughthe first ranks fell down immediately, turning into crumpled heaps of ash on the groundrank after rank of them was destroyed, flattened to the dust of the ground until none remained. 

The sinewy form of Lord Voldemort, the Reaper, and Urdai appeared at the light. A misty voice rang out softly in the stillness—

"Do not think it is yet over. This game has only begun to be played."

They vanished, fading slowly away. Clutching his chest with a quivering hand, Harry decided that he'd be going to the library a little more than planned if it would help that much. He then collapsed into an oblivious, blissful slumber.  



	24. Live and Let Die

****

A/N: Writer's block is a difficult thing to overcome, Tooieleafs has just come to know. Very hard…. Never give up, however. Have fun reading. Thanks for all the comments, keep 'em coming!

__

what does it matter to you

when you got a job to do

you gotta do it well

you gotta give the other fellow hell

"Live and Let Die" Paul McCartney and Wings

****

Chapter Twenty- Four

Live and Let Die

An inexplicable silence fell over the path flagged of stone, a silence shattered only by the dull reverberation of footsteps coming from somewhere on the path itself. The current of the nearby rivers, though strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. The birds and various woodland creatures were forgetting to make their usual chattering noise of early morning. The forest seemed to be hushed in either excitement or dread, and the footsteps continued on, growing slightly louder and resounding quicker than before.  


These slight thuds reached Harry's ears after a moment—but that was far beyond his reasoning of waking up. A droplet of water fell from a tree limb and smacked him right in the eye, and, although it was closed, caused him to sit straight up, feverishly glancing around. 

A splitting headache worked its way into a crescendo within his sleep-fogged mind, and he fell consciously back to the ground, clutching his scar in agony. 

Harry…

He nearly cried out as the pain intensified worse than ever, searing hotly through his forehead.

Wake up…you have to wake up….

I can't…my head…make the pain stop…. 

"Harry. Harry."

Someone was shaking him slightly, a voice registering panic was whispering soundly above him as he tried to gain focus in his eyes. After a moment, the voice's owner came into clear perceptiveness—Ginny was on her knees before him, either of her hands clutching his respective arm fearfully, worry betrayed in her eyes.

Groggily Harry tried to open his mouth and say something, but no sound came out. Ginny gingerly lifted him to his feet; awkwardly he stumbled and nearly fell over, Ginny's arm shooting out to catch him just in time. 

"Are you all right?" 

"No," answered Harry flatly. "I feel dead."

A short look crossed Ginny's face as she put her arm around his shoulder patiently. 

"Where're we going?" mumbled Harry incoherently, the world continuing to slur before him.

"We've got to get you to the hospital wing. Or at least out of this forest. There are Death Eaters everyone—I've only just gotten away from the lot of them."

"Are _you_ all right?" 

She smiled thinly.

"I've felt better. Work with me here and we might manage to save both our lives today."

Harry nodded, still a bit dumbstruck, and hobbled his way up the path with Ginny at his side helping him every once in a while to maintain balance. The wood was covered with yelps and shouts, presumably by Death Eaters, and each time one reached their ears, hope began to dissipate of their leaving safely. 

"We can make it," gritted Harry time after time, though even the flagged path hadn't ended—he knew much more treacherous grounds were on their way shortly.

Abruptly, just as the pathway was cutting over the narrows of a river, a triumphant cry rang out. 

"OVER HERE! THEY ARE OVER HERE!"

"_Shit_." Harry desperately grabbed the hem of Ginny's robes and prepared to jump into the toiling waters.

"I can't swim!" hissed Ginny despairingly. 

"I'll hold you up, just trust me!"

Another shout sounded, growing louder.

"But I can't—"

"You have—to _trust me._ One…two…three—jump!"

He plunged into the churning waters, icy cold washing over his body and chilling him to the very bone. It was all Harry could do to keep himself and Ginny above the water for the length of the trip down the river, his arms propelling them onward as he prayed with every fiber that there wasn't a waterfall. Ginny scrambled her feet, helping them slightly, but mostly it was Harry's strength that kept them afloat in the water.

The river was mud-soaked from the previous week's rain, its foam-covered waters washing over the banks and rapids worse than ever. The waters churned around them as Harry pulled them both to a small isle where the river forked, barely landing the both of them on solid ground—trees and bushes loomed around their soppy forms as Harry grabbed Ginny's hand and lightly wound a path amidst the trees until a soft grassy spot came into sight.

Harry plopped down on the grass in exhaustion as storm clouds heaved their way in once more, and rain began falling from the sky, spattering down against the trees and onto the disrupted water surface. Ginny sat down next to him, both covered from head to toe in mud and water, and folded into him, shaking with either cold or anxiety—or a little of both. Harry let his arms glide around her waist without thinking, wondering where Ron and Hermione had ended up at.

They had just disappeared mysteriously before the Dementors appeared—they _had_ gotten away, hadn't they? Could the Dementors have gotten to them? Or—Voldemort? Were they at this very moment being tortured with the Cruciatus Curse for information on where Harry was? 

He felt Ginny give his hand a quick squeeze with her own.

"I…I could light a fire, if you want?" he stuttered, his teeth chattering from the frigid air and water. She nodded, and he took out his wand, thankful it wasn't in shards. "_Incendio._" 

A small bluebell fire lit next to where they sat, bathing Harry and Ginny in a small amount of warmth. 

"I guess there's not really any point in trying to find our way back to the school for now," heaved Harry, his eyes scanning the forest for any signs of life. "We may as well wait until the rain subsides."

Ginny nodded against him, still shivering slightly. A silence settled in, but not awkward or uncomfortable—just nice and peaceful to Harry, who let his eyes fall shut.

"Why did you let me stay with you?" asked Ginny suddenly. 

"I couldn't let the Death Eaters have you," said Harry sharply without opening his eyes. 

"But we both could have been hurt in the river."

"Nah. Just like a big bath." He tried to sound flippant and failed horribly.

"You can only cheat death so many times," whispered Ginny, her voice quavering. 

"I realise that, Miss Weasley," said Harry, finally pulling off an air of ineptitude. "But I'll continue to try until I one day fail—in the words of some greatly wise philosopher—'Death will stare each of us in the eye one day—what can we do but stare back and laugh?'"

Ginny actually let out a small chuckle, at which Harry let a sigh of relief silently filter from his mouth. She was back to her normal self.

"You're impossible, Harry Potter."

"Is that such a bad thing?" 

"In some cases, yes—others, no."

Their faces inched closer together, closing the already minute gap between them. 

"Such as?" he whispered, a teasing edge still to his husky voice.

"You drive me insane," she said simply, something Harry had never realised he had accomplished.

"A crazy, over-the-edge insane? Or just a dizzy kind of feeling…like you need to fall over?"

His eyes began merrily to dance behind his glasses, and though the thunder rolled around them and the lightning flashed as well, Harry let his lips tenderly meet Ginny's in a soft, momentary kiss. It was broken immediately by Ginny herself, who pulled back, a kind of dazed look in her eyes. 

"D'you mean it?" she whispered, searching his face.

"I do."

Her face lifted once more to meet his. She kissed him and kept on kissing him until everything around them seemed to dissipate entirely, lost in each other's arms.

"Harry! Ginny! Where are you?!" 

Ron brought his hands down from being cupped around his mouth, worry edging his face. He glanced back to Hermione, then to Sirius, who had accompanied them in a small search for the aforementioned couple. 

"You don't reckon Voldemort got them, do you?" he asked cautiously. 

"That Song Charm was way too powerful for anyone to've made a flight from it," shrugged Sirius. "Even Albus felt it, and he was all the way in his study at Hogwarts—miles from where you lot were."

"How did he _cast_ such a Song Charm?" uttered Hermione in disbelief. "That is _very_ advanced magic!"

"So is the Ribbonfire Charm—and he managed that quite well," said Ron. 

"Fire Charm," said Hermione sharply.

"Pardon?"

"It's called the Fire Charm."

"The nickname it was titled during Voldemort's days was the Ribbonfire Charm, though," said Sirius, breaking up the argument before it could go into full-fledged war. "Just the proper name is Fire Charm—or _Pyr_. Take your pick."

Ron gave Hermione a bit of a snooty smirk, his eyes sparkling. She scoffed slightly at him.

"Concentrate on the moment, Ron, Hermione, and maybe we'll manage to find Harry sometime by next week!" snapped Sirius, his temper on edge as rain began spattering down disdainfully onto their cloaks. 

Giving each other withered looks, the teenagers obliged and scooted closer to each other for warmth. Ron's hands went back up to his mouth.

"Harry! Ginny!" he shouted. 

As with the several other times he'd done just that, nothing answered him but rainfall and thunder. 

"I'm worried," said Sirius suddenly, glancing self-consciously back at the couple. "Last night was full moon—Remus was out, he lives nearby—what if they were bitten? I know both are capable of taking care of themselves—"

"Ginny's my _little_ sister, Sirius!" yelped Ron. "She couldn't take care of herself if her life depended on it! She needs me, Fred, and George—and the rest of her family!"

"She's grown up, Ron. She'll always be younger than you—but she won't be your 'little' sister for all eternity. Someday you'll have to accept that someone will fancy her, and she'll like—or even love—them back."

Ron guffawed at Sirius. 

"You aren't suggesting—"

"I'm not telling you to assume anything," pointed out Sirius quietly as he scanned the bend of a small river for footprints. "But it will happen. It might've already happened."

"And since when are you the top authority of love and life?" feverishly sniped Ron, anger flaring brilliantly, though immediately he regretted speaking that way to Sirius—the man swelled up, eyes that hadn't lost their haunted look flashing dangerously. 

"I don't consider myself an authority over anyone, Ron," he said quietly, anger secluded into a small growl, "but I've lived life. I know what it's like to fall in love—and to be rejected." He teetered, as though about to spiel more, but refrained quickly, his face falling. "And if you haven't noticed the way Harry looks at Ginny—" he cleared his throat, blinking "—then you're blind as I've heard, Ron."

Ron was registered speechless for the first time as long as he could recall. _Except for that time after the Yule Ball last year,_ a nagging voice reminded him, which quickly he told to shut up.

"Harry, Ginny!" he called aloud. 

"R-Ron? Is that you?" a muffled voice responded, and for the first time since Harry and Ginny had gone missing yesterday, hope sparked inside of them. 

"Yes! Where are you?" shouted Ron in reply. 

"We're stuck on an island in the fork of a river, the water is too rough to swim ashore," answered the voice. 

"Are you hurt?"

"Not remotely. Just a little wet and a little cold."

Relief flooded Ron as Sirius immediately transformed into the great black dog form. 

"Keep talking, Sirius is coming after you!"

"About what?" shouted his sister's voice furiously. She imitated a high, nonchalant voice, saying sardonically, "Oh, the weather's just peachy here, we've never felt better—yeah right!"

"Although I don't recall ever feeling more content in my life!" piped in Harry's voice, amusement evident. 

"I actually quite agree with you," complied Ginny.

"What on earth are you on about?" asked a bewildered Ron.

"Quite a colourful story, really, remind us to relate it to you sometime—sometime when we're not on a rain-flooded island in the middle of a river!" Though they were shouting at each other, Harry's voice still carried a flippant tone to it, rather shocking Ron.

"Sirius!" shouted Ginny as the form of Sirius Black popped up amid the trees on "their" island. 

Harry rushed to embrace his godfather.

"Good to see you!" he said thickly. "Though I wouldn't mind for different circumstances…."

Sirius chuckled, anger leaving him. 

"Good t' see you're still joking, just like Prongs," he said happily to Harry, ruffling the boy's already-mussed hair. 

"How are we supposed to get back, exactly?" asked Ginny, bemused.

"Hop on my back, I s'pose," said Sirius. "When I'm in dog-form I can swim quite efficiently, even in such waters," he said in a mock-fanciful tone. "Dare to take a trip?"

"You first," said Harry, lightly tapping Ginny's shoulder and giving her a small, secretive small (which of course Sirius didn't miss, and, knowing him, would be telling Remus and everyone else all about Harry and Ginny's secret romance life by tomorrow morning). "I'll go second."

Ginny nodded firmly, and once more Sirius was a dog. 

She gave Harry a quick kiss on the lips, then latched herself around Sirius's middle; he bounded off towards the rampant river and jumped eagerly in. Harry watched a bit sadly, knowing soon their island would be left behind, nothing but memories left of it….   


Sirius was back in an instant as Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had a small reunion before fretfully watching the second stage of the rescue. Harry was quite a lot heavier than Ginny, therefore proposing a small problem—would Sirius be able to keep the both of them afloat in the river? The current picked up, washing more and more over the minuscule shores, and, pressed with time, adrenaline pumped through both Harry and Sirius. 

In another instant, without realising what was happening, Sirius and Harry were back on safe grounds, leaving only another reunion to begin between Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Behind them, the small island was sucked under the fast-flowing river.

"'Your punishment is impending,'" repeated Harry dully, holding a slip of blue parchment in his hand, twirling it slightly. 

"That's all yours says?" smiled Ginny sarcastically. "Mine has a whole lecture of 'being a responsible friend _and_ girlfriend to you, and not letting you lot wander off when you're not supposed to.' How did _McGonagall _know?"

Harry gave a small shrug, smiling over at Ginny as the fire crackled in the common room.

"Everyone will find out eventually. Even the professors." He shuddered at the thought of endless teasing from Professor Trins and Tallow…and then he remembered Tallow was dead, and grew quiet.

"I have to go practice my bass," said Ginny after a moment, glancing around for Ron, then giving him a quick kiss. 

"Be careful out at the pitch," cautioned Harry, allowing himself to drift in and out of consciousness. 

"Quidditch practice tomorrow," said Fred's voice at one point. Harry nodded.

"Will you pose for a group photo with me and my brother?" an excited Dennis Creevey had marveled. 

"No."

"Aw, shucks!" 

Next moment, Hermione plopped down next to him. 

"Homework, Harry," she had said in a small but sure voice. 

He groaned.

"In what?"

"Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures—"

"Point taken!"

And so Harry settled in over a load of books, scratching parchment with his quill for hours, and finally falling asleep without realising Hermione was no longer conscious as well.

***

****

A/N: _I'm sorry this is so short, I know I promised a longer chapter last chapter, but I've had a bout of writer's block since then. Sorry for that! But I've new ideas in my head now, promising ideas, and my friends are taking time from their own hands to help me reorganise the plot I destroyed with immature writing—bare with me. Please comment on whether or not my writing's been improving anymore—I've tried to be more descriptive as well! Goodbye for now!_

Oh yeah—and I gave up on writing American-English (color-colour) and have gone to my native language (Canadian-English). And excuse any other_ mistakes, because I haven't edited this chapter yet. If I find any major errors I'll repost it. Bye!_


	25. The Reign of Fire

****

I _am_ leaving this site. This is my last post for now, I might come back later, like when the good ol' days return. I _am_ going to continue reading and reviewing here, but as an author, Tooieleafs will be no more as far as FanFiction.Net is concerned.

I'm not dropping because of recent events—I feel they were handled wrongly—but FF.Net has the right to run their site as they feel appropriate. 

  
But I also have the right to leave.

So I am.

You have all been wonderful readers, reviewers, and I thank you all for sticking with me through thick and thin. The link to the site where my fiction will be is in my bio, so I bid you all farewell until I hear from you otherwise.

I really don't want to leave….

Chapter Twenty- Five

The Reign of Fire

Ominous black thunderheads throttled the evening sky over the grounds at Hogwarts, rushing the students inside at a quick rate, and causing Hagrid to tidy up around his cabin just as rain began to drizzle down. 

Harry miserably eyed the grounds, knowing perfectly well that Fred and George would be arriving any moment to remind him of Quidditch practice tonight, which didn't exactly seem like the most wonderful thing in the world. A torrential rain began without warning, thrashing robustly on the windows in the common room. 

"Harry?" came George's sing-song voice.

"I know, I know," griped Harry crossly, "practice." George nodded furtively, seeming very gleeful. "I'll be down to the pitch in a moment."

"_Do_ hurry," beseeched George before vanishing again quick as he came. 

Harry groaned, rose from the sofa, and stretched his arm. A pop sounded softly, and a fork of lightning lit the sky. 

"You can't expect me to practice in _that_!" whimpered a nearby voice sulkily. Harry let his attention freely wander to the forms of Fred and Angelina, whom appeared to be having a bit of a spat. 

"We _have _to, Angie!" retorted Fred, a pleading edge to his voice. 

"But it's dangerous! Any of us could be struck by lightning!" 

"I _know _that, but—" Fred sputtered off, unable to think of better grounds for the row. 

A sigh came from Angelina.

"Fine," she said vivaciously. "But not all night, I can tell you that!" she added fleetly.

"You're marvelous!" exclaimed Fred, and he bent to kiss her quickly on the lips. 

She gave him a radiant yet threatening smile, then marched off prominently towards the portrait hole. Fred revolved on the spot to see Harry, who couldn't help the grin from forming on his face.

Fred only grinned back.

"Must dash," he said shortly, "practice. You're coming, right?"

"Would I ever miss practice?" replied Harry, a bit tartly.

"Guess not," said Fred with a sigh. "Actually, mate, I'm a bit inclined to feel like Angie…. All this thunder and rain…stay low in the sky if you would."

Harry nodded shrewdly, then wandered off towards the portrait hole himself as Fred continued to search out the remainder of the team. 

By time he reached the pitch, Harry's clothes were sodden in mud and water, sloshing every step he took. His hair was plastered to the flat of his head for once, which meant to Harry that these conditions would be near impossible for Quidditch.  


He hurried into the locker rooms, shaking himself dry as a dog would. Angelina, George, Katie, and Kirk were all dappled with spots of mud as well, and while the former three looked miserable as Harry felt, the latter was still smirking as usual.

"Your cuts all healed up?" quipped Harry of Kirk, forcing a bit of a smile.

"Oi, of course they aren't!" cried Kirk, seeming mortified at the very thought. "If Madam Pomfrey would've gotten her grubby paws on me, they'd have healed scarlessly!"

"You make it out as a bad thing," muttered Angelina. 

Kirk didn't appear remotely contrite.

"Every scar tells a story, m'dear," he said, eyes flashing humourously. "Take this one for instance." He gestured to a slit on his upper right arm. "Got it in the finals of the junior Stanley Cup, a skate blade ran across my arm."

Harry, Angelina, George, and Katie all stared at Kirk dismally. 

"What?" said Kirk innocently. "I didn't _do _anything to deserve that, if that was what you were implying. I just got cross-checked onto the ice."

"I'm sure of it," said Katie coolly, though she smiled at the youth boy fondly. "You're a perfect gentleman," she finished, a touch of sarcasm showing.

George simpered at her.

"Aw, what about me?" 

"You?" She gave a wry laugh, glowing at him. "I doubt you're even familiar with the term."

"Wow, you've figured me out already," said George in an amazed sort of voice. 

Harry rolled his eyes, hoping he never got that bad around Ginny. Moments later, Alicia and Fred appeared, looking equally wet and disgruntled. 

"Fetch your broomsticks and we'll take to the sky," ordered Fred shortly, dripping water from his hair. "Harry, mind getting the balls out? Thanks."

Harry grabbed his Firebolt, then bent to retrieve the set of Quidditch balls, praying they wouldn't release the Snitch tonight. Somehow, he thought they would. 

"Release the Bludgers and toss the Quaffle to Alicia," said George as the girls trouped out of the locker room. He himself darted outward towards the myriad of water and storms. 

Harry obliged as soon as he felt the rain beating down on him once more, and the pair of Bludgers zipped away, looped each other, and soared back towards Harry, who ducked his head and hurled the Quaffle towards Angelina, who was the nearest Chaser.

Lightning forked across the sky again, eerily lighting the pitch. 

"KICK OFF AND LISTEN FOR THE WHISTLE!" bellowed Fred, a silvery pipe in his mouth. 

Again, Harry followed instructions and kicked off. The gales of wind were roughly pushing him off course, rocking him to and fro. He squinted through the rain, drew his wand and whispered, "_Impervius_!" to repel the water from his glasses. 

"I'M RELEASING THE SNITCH, HARRY!" yelped a magically magnified voice, obviously either Fred or George's. 

A glint of gold flashed in the darkness, but nothing more than that was seen by Harry before the Golden Snitch had flown away, leaving him to despairingly wonder where it could've gone. He tried his best to remain a low rate of speed and altitude, but found it nearly impossible.

A shrill sound trilled in the distance, presumably the whistle, and Harry swooped down to the ground, landing with a squelch. 

The team broke out into whines and complaints at the same time.

"This is impossible—"

"I can't see two feet in front of me—"

"How are we s'posed to practice—"

"SHADDUP!" shouted Fred and George at the same time, going a bit red in the face.

"You've got to be ready for the unpredictable," said George impatiently. 

"And what would we look like if we went out in front of Slytherin in this kind of weather and started _this_?" added Fred on sudden inspiration. 

Apparently no one could think of a plausible explanation for that, and Fred sent the team off again into the air.

"PUT KIRK THROUGH THE PACES!" yelled George firmly from the ground to Katie, Angelina, and Alicia. 

"OKAY!" 

Harry remained dormant on his broomstick for quite some time, narrowing his eyes to better see the play below him. It became so thunderous around his level that he actually dove downward for a moment, and another bolt of lightning shot nearby, rumbling as it smashed into something nearby.

"LOOK OUT!" shouted a panicky voice suddenly; Harry turned his head just in time to see a streak of lightning shooting towards the pitch. 

Without warning, he bolted downward fast as he could, though he knew it was at no avail—just as he was about to impact onto the muddy ground, his scar split with sudden, white hot pain, searing through him. 

The world went black, and with a dull cracking noise, Harry knew no more.

"How are you getting along, Janet?"

"I'm fine, Remus…."

"You seem…I don't know, just a bit aloof, like you're not really there…."

"It's just so hard to believe."

"I know…."

"You have to be open-minded, eh?"

Soft laughter trickled into the conversation as silence reigned briefly.

"So…where are you staying these days?"

"I just moved up when Albus called me. He explained that the Ministry is in a bit of a feud—"

A harsh, wry chuckle sounded.

"Yeah, a feud that will either end with the hanging of Cornelius Fudge or Albus Dumbledore one."

"Are they really opposing Fudge so badly?"

A sigh filtered in.

"Rita Skeeter calls it 'Rebellion Against Minister of Magic, A Country In Shambles'. Her latest work of art."

"I'm sure."

"What've you been doing all these years?"

"Just dabbling in and out of work here and there. I flew in from southern Wales to Scotland several days ago, and then rushed up here on the Hogwarts Express under the pretenses that there were serious problems."

Another chuckle came.

"You sound like some kind of Muggle scientist or literature MD, what with all your fanciful words and such."

"I've developed quite a taste for literature, now that you mention it. I've thought of offering to teach Defense at Hogwarts, but I was never quick enough to snare the position before someone else did."

"You'd be wonderful for the job, just what Dumbledore needs."

"I still can't fathom that Sirius was wrongfully accused of murder…it just doesn't make sense to me, Remus."

"You can't see it? The ties, the connections…the perfect crime…."

"But—you heard the prophecy, McGonagall recited it to us all…. _The Reign of Fire begins, terrorizing Britain and its outlying countries…a traitor will be in the midst of the Potter child's closest friends, a traitor whom will only show his face when the truth is beheld._"

"That could mean a number of things, Janet…."

"Such as?"

"Well, Pettigrew didn't reveal himself until Sirius came back—that was the truth."

"Yes, but how do we know that?"

"I _saw_ Pettigrew, I _heard _the rat of a man confess that he murdered Lily and James Potter…. _I know Sirius is innocent_!"

There was a testy edge to the voice of the latter speaker. 

After a tense moment, there was the sound of quiet footfall, the clicking of a door then slamming of it as someone left the room. The voices made little sense to Harry as he laid half-asleep in the hospital ward, his skull aching him. 

"Are you awake, Harry?" 

He had obviously been moving a little often, and though he was inclined to fight the dizziness of arousal, he let his eyes drift open to glimpse Remus sitting in a chair at the foot of his bed. Another chair sat deserted in the adjoined arm of the first.

"You are awake," said Remus brightly, simpering in the twilight of the dawn—or was it dusk? 

"What time is it?" asked Harry in a growl of a voice, sounding more cross than he had intended.

Remus appeared mildly abashed.

"Evening. Dusk is just about to settle in. You've slept for two days without so much as moving a single inch. You can imagine," he continued airily, overpowering Harry's quips, "our concern."

"Who was that you were talking to a minute ago?" 

"My old friend, Janet."

"Is—is that who Professor Snape was talking about in Hogsmeade?" pressed Harry curiously.

But Remus closed the topic with a rigid look. 

"I'd rather not discuss it right now," he elaborated, letting a drawn smile crease his face. 

"What happened to me?" asked Harry after a moment, suddenly remembering he was in the hospital wing.

"From what I gather, you were practicing Quidditch in a lightning storm that wasn't generated by nature, when lightning struck the ground nearby and you collided rather harshly with the earth."

His eyes began twinkling in a manner such as Dumbledore's would, as though he was trying to guise his amusement.

"Well, I had better report to Poppy and Albus that you're all right," he finished, glancing around, seeming to think that something was prepared to lurch out at them any moment. 

As Remus reached the door, it flew open on its own accord, and in bristled Madam Pomfrey ardently.

"Up, are you?" she barked. Harry began to rise from his lying position, and she placed her hand on his chest, preventing him from rising. "Why didn't you call me?" she huffed indignantly. "He needs proper care, Lupin, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave while I tend to him."

"But I feel—" 

"Do as Madam Pomfrey says," advised Remus. He bent closer and added mischievously, "I've tried spiting her before, it just doesn't work properly." He righted himself, nodded shortly to Harry, then ambled out of the ward. 

Madam Pomfrey gave an irritated noise. 

"Such nonsense, playing Quidditch in the lightning storm…" she bewailed angrily, feeling Harry's forehead. "You're lucky the ground was so soft…. I swear, if it isn't one thing with you lot, it's another…."

She rambled off, stirring an acid blue potion in a small tankard next to his bed. 

"Take a drink of that, and you should be up and around in a day or so."

"What?!" yelped Harry, outraged—he wanted to stay here as little time as possible.

"You've got to recover from that injury!" trilled Madam Pomfrey impatiently.

"I feel fine!" 

"You don't look it, I'm afraid, so you're going to have to stay here for the night. I'll tell Albus to have your homework brought to you."

Harry groaned, flopping grouchily back down to his pillow. 

"_Drink it_," instructed Madam Pomfrey firmly. 

Puling a disgusted face, he lifted the tankard and took a long draught from it. It seemed to sizzle the entire way down, making his throat burn furiously. 

"Settle to bed now," ordered Madam Pomfrey crisply. 

Harry spluttered off spitefully, scowling after her as she disappeared again. 

"We've been assigned extra on self-Transfiguration, Harry," said Hermione in an uncanny tone equal to Professor McGonagall's. 

Harry let free a groan. 

"Self-Transfiguration is among the most interesting forms," scoffed Hermione.

"I keep getting worried I won't make it all the way to my form or back," shot Harry. 

Ron cleared his throat slightly. 

"Aw, is Hermi neglecting you, Ronniekins?" taunted Ginny from a nearby chair opposite the other two. She laughed at the beet-red expression of Ron's face. "Your ears are red!"

"Your ears turn red too!" argued Ron, sending daggers his sister's way.

"They do not!" 

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Could we have silence here, please?" interjected Harry sullenly, his wand clutched in his hand. 

"You wouldn't dare curse me!" admonished Ginny, smiling at him. 

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I'm trying to Transfigure myself, and I could do with a bout of silence."

"Ooh, what are you going to make yourself?" asked Hermione zealously. 

"I was thinking possibly a chair…something around my actual size, though, so if I get stuck, at least I can be my proper size."

"No, you've got to get more creative!" said Ginny profusely. 

"Hey, how about a Muggle item?" suggested Ron idly. "You could go haywire!"

Harry gave Ron a look.

"How about this?" 

He scrunched his nose disdainfully at the picture of what seemed to be a children's sailboat, not nearly three feet long. 

"Well…it's a start," he said, still sceptically eyeing the picture, in which the boat was twirling in circles in the middle of a pond.

Harry took out his wand, and, feeling weird though it was to "curse" himself, muttered a brief incantation under his breath. Just as he did so, Hermione burst out, "Have you learned the formula behind it yet?!"

A small squeal shouted out, followed by a snort of laughter. Harry stared around blankly at his friends, all of whom were either chortling with laughter or very red in the face. Hermione was shaking in suppressed laughter herself, shocking Harry.

"Wh-what's going on?" he asked in a voice that sounded distant and echoing to even him. Dreadfully he brought his hands to either side of his head. He felt, rather than a mop of messy hair, the mast of a boat, and a sail draped from it. He wondered if the blush present on his face was hidden by the bad bit of Transfiguration, or if they could indeed see his embarrassment.

"You…you should've—should've studying h-h-harder," panted Hermione breathlessly, tears streaming her cheeks from laughing.  


"Oh yeah!" concurred Ginny delightfully, tears blotching her own face. 

"Er…what's the incantation to change me back?" asked Harry flatly, not enjoying the situation. 

Just before he could grab the spellbook, Ron snatched it away, recovering from his laughter fit just long enough to do so. Harry frowned, a picture of himself forming in his mind. _Harry Potter: Sailboat Head Boy_, he thought sourly. After a moment of rethinking it, he couldn't help but laugh aloud.

"H-Hermione, change me back, please?" pleaded Harry, giving her puppy eyes. 

"I s'pose I should," said Hermione after a moment, continuing to chuckle as she performed the spell. 

She pulled back, seeming satisfied with her work, nodding. Harry felt his head, relief washing him as his hands recognised the familiar mop of messy hair. 

"I think I ought to study a bit more," he muttered, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"I reckon you're right!" cackled Ron devilishly. 

Without taking time to reconcile, Harry shoved the linen sheets over his head. There was a very small instance of silence, then the scuffling of feet, and the frequent sound of footfall came, then the closing of a door. The covers were lifted shortly, and Ginny's face swam into view, offering a dazzling smile at him.

_Wow. I could've sworn it was ten degrees cooler in here just a moment before…._

"When d'you get to come back?" pouted Ginny as she pulled back from a kiss.

"Tomorrow, unless Madam Pomfrey has anything to say about it," grumbled Harry. "She's been nursing me around like a baby bird."

Ginny giggled. 

"What are you doing?" cut in Madam Pomfrey through their mirth. Her tone was crisp and rid of foolhardiness, seeming to slice the air like a hot knife to butter. Harry wondered if she had been taking lessons from McGonagall recently. "Get out from under those covers!"

Feeling both embarrassed and frightful, Harry removed the covers from atop his head, smiling charmingly towards Madam Pomfrey, who narrowed her eyes dangerously. 

"Er—"

"What were you doing under there?" 

"Sleeping?" said Harry, giving her a sideways appraising glance. 

"Take another draught of potion, and then you can go," she said, though still she was fuming a bit. "Be a little more mindful from now on—I don't need to be tending to you every other month, that's a bad habit, Potter."

Harry grinned.

"I'll do my best," he assured her, and she bustled from the ward. 

Ginny burst into gales of laughter as soon as the nurse was out of hearing range, collapsing onto Harry's chest. Harry idly stroked her hair, gently tugging at the crimson locks affectionately. 

"We'd better go before she comes back," he whispered into her ear. 

Without pausing to give Ginny time to rethink the matter, Harry sprang out of bed and grabbed his tankard, taking a sip of it. He pulled a disgusted face once more. 

"What does she _put _in this stuff?" he wondered incredulously, eyeing the potion. 

Ginny laughed again, rising from the four-poster and gathering her things. 

"Let's find Ron and Hermione before they begin to assume the worst."

**I think my beta-reader fell off the face of the earth. So I'm posting this un-beta-read. **

YOU GUYS WERE WONDERFUL!

Goodbye for now!


	26. The Keeper

****

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Keeper

Spring dawned to a cheerfully sunny day. The lake and sky turned a pretty periwinkle blue colour, the rainstorms died timidly down to mere showers, and warmth bathed the castle, a warmth not felt since the vehement chill of November.

Quidditch practice picked up sometime in mid-March, the warning of the game being scheduled at any time in April looming over Gryffindor team's heads. Harry secretly prayed that the match wouldn't be until June, after the O.W.L.'s, but knew this was asking for too much.

The Gryffindor team began getting very jumpy as practice time dwindled away; Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson strided down the hallways together, whimpering at the looks earned by the Slytherins; Fred and George kept up their pace with agitating the Slytherins in particular; and Harry was given snooty looks from Draco Malfoy each time he passed the Slytherin.

The only one unaffected by all of these factors seemed to be Kirk Joseph, who could be found whisking through hallways, humming happily under his breath. Most people found this very amusing; Slytherins despised the first year, however, and oft shoved him roughly into walls and cupboards, aided by Peeves. 

But Kirk kept an air of complete calm in the days approaching April.

Studying for the O.W.L.'s was now on Harry's agenda as well; each day consisted of a steady to do list: Eat breakfast, go to class, eat lunch, go to class, go to common room for Firebolt, practice Quidditch, practice trumpet, study in the common room for a few hours, snog with Ginny for a couple minutes, then go to bed.

He grew very strained during these days, most nights not going to bed until after midnight. 

Ron and Hermione were observing the niceties of life, it appeared; they hadn't had a row since March by time April came round. Perhaps they were lifting Harry's spirits by respecting each other, but Harry didn't care to know why they were being like that, as long as they kept it up. Hermione grew irritable early April, and on the third Dumbledore made an announcement at tea.

"I would like to clear up details about the upcoming Quidditch final," he began, eyes twinkling as he roved over the room. Harry perked up, listening raptly. "Date set will stand; the final is June first, just before O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s begin." He smiled fondly towards the Gryffindors, then towards the Slytherins. "May the best House win."

Malfoy smirked at Harry from across the Great Hall.

"All right, team, you heard Professor Dumbledore; we've got until June to train for this important match," said George, eyes glittering on the moonlit pitch as he gave the team a pep talk. "We've practiced too hard for this to be terribly impossible, and Slytherin just has a bunch of blokes on their team anyway — nutters for letting Malfoy replace their Seeker, if you ask me…." 

George scowled his displeasure at Malfoy, then dismissed the team to the locker rooms.

"Harry?" As Harry changed into respectable clothes, a fragile voice disrupted his jumble of thoughts. He turned to see Kirk standing there, a frail smile in place of the first year's usual dashing grin. 

"Anything wrong, Kirk?" he prompted, pulling on a set of clean robes. 

"I — er — think I know something about the…the traitor." The words tumbled out as though they'd have caught fire in his mouth. 

Harry grew tense, interested.

"What d'you know about the traitor?" he asked quietly. "Who is it?"

"I d-don't know who it is, b-but they've left clues b-behind them."

"What clues?" whispered Harry, his full attention focused on Kirk's quavering voice.

"Yesterday I found a wand near the forest where Tallow's body was found. I don't recognise the wand, no, but I snooped around a bit in spite of myself…. There were broken centaur bodies strewn about everywhere, Harry…it was awful. A — a note was slipped under one of the bones. I've — I've got it here somewhere…." 

He fumbled through his robes, Harry watching expectantly, praying that Kirk had found something worthwhile. 

"Here it is."

_Those who enter the forest these days are doomed to inevitable death._

Harry's mind was a boggle of thoughts as he read and reread the script, trying to identify the writing. He turned quickly back to Kirk.

"D'you recognise the writing?" he whispered, eyes shining in the flickering candlelight.

"Y-yes," stammered Kirk.

"Whose is it?"

Kirk didn't answer for a long time; only the soft hooting of owls outside was heard in the tranquil moment, until Kirk spoke again in an even voice.

"Not many things scare me, Harry Potter. I've never felt frightened in my life; not of the grizzly bears up north, or of the werewolves I raised when I was younger…but one thing is beginning to scare me. Lord Voldemort is out there, biding his time, just waiting for the cue to strike down Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore might be able to frighten him off for some time, but he will eventually come and attempt to falter this place; I'm afraid. I worry about Robbie more than anything…."

He trailed off imploringly, then fled the locker room, a look of horror sweeping over his face. Harry stared after him, then shifted his gaze back to the note. Something wasn't making sense, and he intended to find out what.

***

The rain exploded with a mighty crash on June first as daylight broke. 

The dreadful storm that overtook Hogwarts made the outlook horrible for the Quidditch final to be played that day. After their meeting, Kirk had been acting very nervous; he crept around corridors, peeking around corners before turning them, as though expecting someone to attack him if he wasn't watchful. Harry felt like a git for being so persistent in trying to extract information from the Keeper.

"Ah, don't worry about it, Harry," Ron had said lightly when Harry voiced this. "Kirk's just having a mood swing like ol' Professor Trins."

Harry grumpily wrenched the curtains of his four-poster open, wishing horrible things on the Slytherins. He pulled on a few Muggle clothes, then over that the scarlet Gryffindor robes. With a large yawn, he stumbled from the dormitory to greet Fred, George, Angelina, and Ginny, all of whom were waiting in the common room. 

Harry offered them a drowsy smile.

"Looks like the weather's detesting us," said Fred, glancing to the rain-lashed window. "Not a majour problem; can be easily overlooked…."

"Yeah, sure," said Angelina sarcastically, a forced grin on her face. Fred simpered at her. "We've not prepared to play Quidditch in _that_ hell!"

"I know, the weather was just fine until today!" said George fiercely, giving Harry a sideways look. 

"Maybe the Slytherins learnt to control weather," he suggested, shrugging. Last thing he needed was a reminder of Voldemort on an already-stressful day. "Don't."

"Round up the other girls, Angie, would you?" said Fred distractedly. He pecked her lips as she stalked off. "Harry, want to go collect Kirk and your Firebolt?"

"So long as I don't get a kiss," teased Harry, ducking his head. "Be back."

He trounced off towards the boys' dorms, until he found the first years'. Kirk was already up and around, shoving clothes on, and Harry was pleased to see the smirk-ish grin on Kirk's face. 

"We're about to head off to the pitch," said Harry. "Ten minutes to our time to take the field."

"Thanks, Harry," said Kirk gratefully. 

"See you."

Harry bounded up another few sets of stairs, retrieved his Firebolt, and collapsed into Ginny's arms in the common room. Fred and George turned away, sniggering; Harry assumed Ginny had informed them all they needed to know. 

"Good luck," whispered Ginny into Harry's ear, sending shivers down his spine. She gave him a quick kiss, then hurried off towards the girls' dorms. 

"Well, congratulations, Harry," said Fred, cuffing Harry's shoulder with a satisfied grin. "You've got a Weasley girlfriend."

George wiped an invisible tear from his eye.

"You're officially our brother, Harry," he cried, embracing Harry. 

"Thanks, guys," said Harry solemnly. "And you've been wonderful captains, even if we lose."

"Aw, you're making us blush, Harry!" admonished Fred as both he and George glowed with happiness. 

"But we're not going to lose, are we, Harry?" 

"Nope, not if I can help it," said Harry firmly. 

"Good lad!" 

"Spiffing!" 

"I'm going on down to the pitch."

Fred and George calling merrily after him, Harry strided from the common room. 

"Do behave during the game, dear!" called the Fat Lady shrilly. "Need a Gryffindor win, you know!"

Harry didn't pause to eat breakfast; Nearly-Headless Nick cuffed his back as well, wishing him the best of luck. The rain spattered violently down on Harry upon exiting the castle; people were dispersing towards the pitch all around him, umbrellas raised. 

When at last he reached the locker room, he drew his wand and tapped his glasses. _"Impervius_."

Praying that the water-repellent charm would be enough, he flopped down on the bench in the locker room. 

He was growing a tad bored when a funny rustling noise caught his attention. Harry drew his wand and peered curiously down the corridor to Madam Hooch's office. 

Madam Hooch herself bristled out, looking ardent.

"Hello, Potter," she greeted, smiling warmly. "Best of luck in the match today."

"Thank you, Madam," said Harry, minding his manners. "What was that noise?"

"Had to have a last minute checkup on the balls," explained Madam Hooch, gesturing to a chest beneath her arm. "Well anyway, must get to the pitch to signal the start of the game shortly."

She walked off, Harry frowning slightly after her. He'd never remembered Madam Hooch bringing the balls out this late….

The rest of the team erupted into the doors, broad grins on their faces, Fred leading them.

"Harry," he said. "Good to see you, mate."

"You just saw me," Harry pointed out. 

"Well, good to see you again!"

"We have a strategy for today, team," said George, stepping in front of the others. "Harry — your glasses, are they —"  


"I've already performed the charm," finished Harry.

"Good, then." George drew a heavy sigh. "I'd like to say that no matter the outcome of this game, you have been one hell of a Quidditch team. The days were long and the nights were rough, but throughout it all, we've persevered. Just one tiny game left, against our arch-rivals in Slytherin; stomp them, and we'll do just fine. Kirk — you're not as important this game. Stop what you can, but our Chasers will take it away for the most part.

"Angie, Katie, Alicia…just go through the paces. Stooging is permitted this time, do anything to score; Hooch won't be able to see three feet in front of her if the storm keeps up…. And Harry. Wait until we're up fifty points at least before catching the Snitch, and we'll win the House Cup and the match."

"All together, now," said Fred. "Who's the best?" 

"GRYFFINDOR!" 

"Then let's show those gits from Slytherin that!" 

Bellowing wildly, Harry flanked the team out of the locker rooms and onto the pitch, where Slytherin stood in acid-green robes and dirty looks. 

"Shake hands!" yelled Madam Hooch. 

Looking highly pleasant, Fred and George wrapped a hand on each side of the Slytherin captain's. Draco Malfoy sneered at Harry. 

"On my whistle. Three…two…one."

The silvery whistle piped a note, and the teams soared off the ground in a myriad of scarlet, green, and rain. Harry flew straight for the sky, thunder clapping around him and lightning forking him. Malfoy, obviously thinking Harry had gone berserk, stayed closer down. 

Harry squinted through the heavy rain for any flecks of gold in the distance. He could see the battle raging below, and could make out shouts from the crowd when each team scored, but had no idea what the score was. 

A flicker of gold glitter caught his eye, but his heart sank; Malfoy had seen the gold already, and Harry stooped to the level of sidling after Malfoy and flying directly in front of him; they collided and Malfoy was nearly thrown from his broom, snarling at Harry, who smiled unpleasantly back.

The next couple of minutes past without any sign of the Snitch; Harry looped the pitch several times, still squinting, Malfoy directly behind him. 

A whistle trilled in the distance, and Harry swooped downward.

"I CALLED TIMEOUT!" yelled Fred. 

Harry dismounted and blundered towards the rest of the team, rain thrashing down on them. 

"One hundred and ten to sixty is the score, Harry," said George breathlessly. "You've got to get the Snitch soon, it's growing dangerous out here…."

Harry turned intently to Kirk.

"Don't let a goal in," he said. "You've got to keep them at bay while I search for the Snitch. I'll deal with Malfoy; keep the Bludgers off me and keep scoring if you can."

"Will do," said Alicia, echoed by Fred and Kirk moments later.

"I can hardly see four feet in front of me," said Harry despairingly, mounting his broom. "Best of luck."

The whistle sounded again, and the team took off once more. Harry began frantically searching for the Snitch, rain whipping and stinging his skin, lightning flaring brilliantly. Malfoy didn't dare go high as Harry was; the other players were blots of mottled scarlet and green below him. 

A glimmer of gold past the Gryffindor goal posts caught his attention, and he dived hard as he could towards them. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen, and Harry's heart leapt to his throat; he reached out his right arm; the Snitch drew closer, and then —

As Harry's fingers closed joyously around the struggling Golden Snitch, Kirk Joseph tapped the Snitch with his finger; a yank from behind his navel told Harry that winning wasn't necessarily the best thing.

The ground swooped around, and he was swirling in tight circles, Kirk alongside him. Momentarily the spinning was shattered by Harry's feet slamming into the ground again, Kirk crumpling next to him, panting. 

The Snitch fluttered off into the distance, and one thought echoed in the hollows of Harry's mind:

_We are screwed._

Kirk breathed heavily on the ground, dust flitting up. The rain had subsided in the place they were at; mountainous caverns swarmed all around them; the air was alight with sounds of the forest. Harry knew the feeling all too well that swept over his body, and he groped for his wand.

"GET OUT YOUR WAND!" Kirk bellowed suddenly. "RUN! Harry, YOU HAVE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE!"

Harry faltered, frowning at Kirk, whose face was splotched with tears.

"They're coming!" he shouted desperately. "Remove yourself from this land! You've got to get out of this area!"

Kirk's voice was showing signs of maturity Harry had never heard before. He glimpsed around; his broomstick had been left on the pitch, it seemed. Chances of getting back without the Snitch were zero to none, he knew, so he squinted up into the darkness.

A cold, mirthless laugh brought reality crashing hard down on Harry and Kirk. Kirk struggled to rise, Harry helping him, and the sinewy form of Lord Voldemort himself appeared, crimson eyes burning with hatred and hunger. 

"Brought another friend with you, Harry Potter?" asked Voldemort softly, his eyes roaming over Kirk's limp body. "You must enjoy the deaths of your friends…but nevertheless, I will exterminate your friend shortly."

Harry threw himself in front of a whimpering Kirk. 

"Let him alone," he said evenly. 

"Learnt to speak in a year's time, have you, Potter?" whispered Voldemort, nostrils dilating. "Excellent. It will make your death much more interesting."

Harry gritted his teeth.

"You know we can't duel properly, what will you do? Murder me without giving me a chance? How very prompt and adult of you."

He was vaguely amazed at the strength present in his own voice. Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I shall not have the honour of dueling with you this time, I'm afraid," he said, quiet voice full of sheer hatred. "I will duel with young, blundering Kirk Joseph. Severus," he directed sharply over his shoulder, and the swish of a cloak resounded; a man stepped forward. "You will duel with Potter here."

Professor Snape stared Harry in the eye with a steady, sure gaze. Harry looked back into the Potion Master's remorseful face, and a warmth swept him. He had to distract Voldemort in order for Kirk to escape. _But why is Kirk here to begin with?_

"You're wondering how Joseph here learnt of my plot," said Voldemort softly, eyes squarely focusing on Harry's. Pain shot through his forehead like he had never felt, nearly sending him toppling to the ground, but he focused on standing. "He is quite the bungler, I'm afraid. He accidentally blundered across my faithful servant at Hogwarts while she was setting the Snitch to be a Portkey. He might've known before then, actually; he suspected for quite some time."

"I knew you wouldn't suspect a Portkey in the Snitch, Harry Potter," said Voldemort lazily, eyes flickering to Kirk then back to Harry. "You were so wrapped up in winning the Quidditch House Cup that it would be terribly easy to manipulate you. I knew that Draco Malfoy was not a good Quidditch player; knew he would fail to capture the Snitch. But I had not expected Joseph to join you; I assume he had hoped to get here before you to save your life by giving his own…."

"Why?" choked out Harry. "Why does everyone want to save me?" He knew it was pointless asking this of Voldemort, but the words tumbled out before he could stop them. 

"Because, Harry, you are the only one I am mortal to," hissed Voldemort, tongue flitting rapidly. Harry sank to his knees, emotions overwhelming him. "I can never achieve immortality to the ancestor of Godric Gryffindor, and you happen to be his last, as I am Salazar Slytherin's last."

The news shook Harry with an almighty force. Everyone that had died — everyone that had saved him — because only he could defeat Voldemort? It seemed impossible when faced by that snake-like face of Voldemort, staring him down….

"Don't you see it, Potter?" whispered Voldemort. "You have elfin blood, you can touch anything created by the elves. But I have your blood in me; I can as well. Unfortunately, this will not able me to make myself immortal to you. I can murder you, of course…."

_But how? _wondered Harry through the waves of mixed emotions. _How can I be Gryffindor's ancestor?_

"In your second year, you remember, the sword you extracted from the Sorting Hat at Hogwarts," said Voldemort, voice softer still. "Only Gryffindor's ancestor could touch the handle."

It was absurd, unbelievable, and yet….

"Why should I trust you?" spat Harry resentfully. He cast a glance at Snape, who gave a barely visible nod to confirm that it was true. Harry rose spitefully to his feet, wand drawn. "I can duel with you without my wand."

Voldemort's eyes alit with malice, nostrils dilating excitedly. The thin mouth let the tongue flit out again.

"You have learnt of Godric's one power, then," he said quietly. "Such a pitiful fool he was, practicing his magic with no wand, destined to one day die…. Just as yourself, Harry…. Your father was very talented in that field as well…. I suffice to say he destroyed many of my faithful servants…."

"NO!" shouted Harry. 

"Yes, boy, he murdered just as you have," hissed Voldemort menacingly. "Just as I have."

"NOT OUT OF COLD BLOOD!" bellowed Kirk Joseph suddenly, and Harry started; he had forgotten that Kirk was even there in his haste. Kirk was trembling from head to foot with suppressed rage, and his voice shook. "I've not lived in England long, but I've made out of you what Dumbledore's said of you. You didn't murder people for any reason, you just liked killing —"

"My initial target was James Potter's great-great-grandfather," interjected Voldemort with a tone of dislike. "He was in my time; I knew if I got rid of Potter that my mission to achieve immortality could actually occur; but he, like so many others, had a child before I could destroy him. I had to leave and be dormant for some time because of that fool's son; I underwent many transformations, and was forced tragically to murder people in between —"

"LIAR!" shouted Harry, still standing defensively before Kirk. 

Voldemort let his gaze settle on Harry, hunger burning in those crimson eyes. A stabbing pain shot through Harry's scar again. 

Voldemort chuckled.

"You remind me so much of your father that it is uncanny," he said. "We are quite alike, you realise…. Both half-bloods, with fathers that put us to shame —"

"MY FATHER DID NOT PUT ME TO SHAME!" 

"Only whereas I had the pleasure of murdering my father, I murdered yours as well. I daresay he was so powerful that he didn't die until I was torn from my body; after your pathetic Mudblood mother died."

"The Urdai should be granted their murdering abilities, however," said Voldemort suddenly, snapping his fingers. Three Urdais appeared next to him, a Reaper flanking them. Voldemort smiled a cruel smile. "Tear them apart."

The nearest Urdai screamed, advancing on Harry and Kirk. Harry backed Kirk up, raising his wand. _"Impedimenta!"_ he shouted; the Urdai froze in place. _"STUPEFY!"_

Another of the Urdais was blown backwards. Only one remained. 

Harry was struck with sudden brilliance. The only thing, he realised, preserving the Urdais' life was most likely an enchantment Voldemort had placed. Therefore, to wipe out the Urdai —

_"Finite Incantatem."_

The words were mere whispers in the darkness, but had their desired effect. The Urdais crumpled into heaps of ash on the ground, and an amount of colour drained from Voldemort's pallid face. The snake-face then grew livid with fury.

"Very well; you have destroyed my comrades. The Reaper, however, is not bound to me by spell; there is no destroying it."

And the midnight-black form of the Reaper sprang into view. Harry felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck as the Reaper's gaze focused on him, irrepressible hunger burning in the red pinpricks of eyes. Harry backed away a bit more, Kirk being pushed back with him. 

_"INFERNOBOLUS!" _he bellowed. A ribbon of fire engulfed the Reaper, but the demon sprang back, scythe glinting in the moonlight (_A lot of time has passed_, registered Harry's mind). 

Harry sent the fire towards the Reaper again, but it darted away once more. The gap between them was closing steadily, and Harry grew frantic with the fire. Those red eyes were telling him one thing: Death. The Reaper broke into a sprint, rushing towards Harry and Kirk. 

It happened before Harry could prevent it; Kirk flung an arm around Harry's waist and tossed him aside with a renowned strength; the Reaper stretched out a skeleton-like arm; and Kirk was being thrown onto the ground, his body twisted and gnarled. Kirk was barely breathing. 

Voldemort laughed.

"Your friend is dead."

Harry dropped his wand with a clatter, for the first time in his life aiming a curse to kill another human.

_"DUCO CANTO!"_ was the incantation that sprang from Harry's mouth; it seemed to catch Voldemort by surprise. Snape vanished with a _pop!_ and Voldemort drew himself, hands over his ears as Harry's were.

A horrible wailing burst through Harry's fingers, erupting pain within him; pain worse than the Cruciatus Curse even. Voldemort's face contorted with fury, and he Disapparated with a _pop!_ as Snape had. The Reaper was engulfed by the screeching noise, and burst into flames; Harry fell to his knees as the Song Charm carried on, and signs of life were shredded from nearby. Death Eaters were stalking forward, struggling to get to Harry, and they were ripped apart viciously, until they abandoned it and disappeared as well. 

After what seemed like ages, the Murderous Song Charm faded away and nothing moved.

Harry looked down, and the pit of his stomach seemed to fall out.

The body of Kirk Joseph, gnarled and mangled, was lying on the ground limply. No breathing was coming from the boy now. Harry fell to his knees helplessly as mirthless laughter rang out across the flat.

Harry broke down and wept onto the lifeless form of the Keeper. 


	27. The Keeper

****

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Keeper

Spring dawned to a cheerfully sunny day. The lake and sky turned a pretty periwinkle blue colour, the rainstorms died timidly down to mere showers, and warmth bathed the castle, a warmth not felt since the vehement chill of November.

Quidditch practice picked up sometime in mid-March, the warning of the game being scheduled at any time in April looming over Gryffindor team's heads. Harry secretly prayed that the match wouldn't be until June, after the O.W.L.'s, but knew this was asking for too much.

The Gryffindor team began getting very jumpy as practice time dwindled away; Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson strided down the hallways together, whimpering at the looks earned by the Slytherins; Fred and George kept up their pace with agitating the Slytherins in particular; and Harry was given snooty looks from Draco Malfoy each time he passed the Slytherin.

The only one unaffected by all of these factors seemed to be Kirk Joseph, who could be found whisking through hallways, humming happily under his breath. Most people found this very amusing; Slytherins despised the first year, however, and oft shoved him roughly into walls and cupboards, aided by Peeves. 

But Kirk kept an air of complete calm in the days approaching April.

Studying for the O.W.L.'s was now on Harry's agenda as well; each day consisted of a steady to do list: Eat breakfast, go to class, eat lunch, go to class, go to common room for Firebolt, practice Quidditch, practice trumpet, study in the common room for a few hours, snog with Ginny for a couple minutes, then go to bed.

He grew very strained during these days, most nights not going to bed until after midnight. 

Ron and Hermione were observing the niceties of life, it appeared; they hadn't had a row since March by time April came round. Perhaps they were lifting Harry's spirits by respecting each other, but Harry didn't care to know why they were being like that, as long as they kept it up. Hermione grew irritable early April, and on the third Dumbledore made an announcement at tea.

"I would like to clear up details about the upcoming Quidditch final," he began, eyes twinkling as he roved over the room. Harry perked up, listening raptly. "Date set will stand; the final is June first, just before O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s begin." He smiled fondly towards the Gryffindors, then towards the Slytherins. "May the best House win."

Malfoy smirked at Harry from across the Great Hall.

"All right, team, you heard Professor Dumbledore; we've got until June to train for this important match," said George, eyes glittering on the moonlit pitch as he gave the team a pep talk. "We've practiced too hard for this to be terribly impossible, and Slytherin just has a bunch of blokes on their team anyway — nutters for letting Malfoy replace their Seeker, if you ask me…." 

George scowled his displeasure at Malfoy, then dismissed the team to the locker rooms.

"Harry?" As Harry changed into respectable clothes, a fragile voice disrupted his jumble of thoughts. He turned to see Kirk standing there, a frail smile in place of the first year's usual dashing grin. 

"Anything wrong, Kirk?" he prompted, pulling on a set of clean robes. 

"I — er — think I know something about the…the traitor." The words tumbled out as though they'd have caught fire in his mouth. 

Harry grew tense, interested.

"What d'you know about the traitor?" he asked quietly. "Who is it?"

"I d-don't know who it is, b-but they've left clues b-behind them."

"What clues?" whispered Harry, his full attention focused on Kirk's quavering voice.

"Yesterday I found a wand near the forest where Tallow's body was found. I don't recognise the wand, no, but I snooped around a bit in spite of myself…. There were broken centaur bodies strewn about everywhere, Harry…it was awful. A — a note was slipped under one of the bones. I've — I've got it here somewhere…." 

He fumbled through his robes, Harry watching expectantly, praying that Kirk had found something worthwhile. 

"Here it is."

_Those who enter the forest these days are doomed to inevitable death._

Harry's mind was a boggle of thoughts as he read and reread the script, trying to identify the writing. He turned quickly back to Kirk.

"D'you recognise the writing?" he whispered, eyes shining in the flickering candlelight.

"Y-yes," stammered Kirk.

"Whose is it?"

Kirk didn't answer for a long time; only the soft hooting of owls outside was heard in the tranquil moment, until Kirk spoke again in an even voice.

"Not many things scare me, Harry Potter. I've never felt frightened in my life; not of the grizzly bears up north, or of the werewolves I raised when I was younger…but one thing is beginning to scare me. Lord Voldemort is out there, biding his time, just waiting for the cue to strike down Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore might be able to frighten him off for some time, but he will eventually come and attempt to falter this place; I'm afraid. I worry about Robbie more than anything…."

He trailed off imploringly, then fled the locker room, a look of horror sweeping over his face. Harry stared after him, then shifted his gaze back to the note. Something wasn't making sense, and he intended to find out what.

***

The rain exploded with a mighty crash on June first as daylight broke. 

The dreadful storm that overtook Hogwarts made the outlook horrible for the Quidditch final to be played that day. After their meeting, Kirk had been acting very nervous; he crept around corridors, peeking around corners before turning them, as though expecting someone to attack him if he wasn't watchful. Harry felt like a git for being so persistent in trying to extract information from the Keeper.

"Ah, don't worry about it, Harry," Ron had said lightly when Harry voiced this. "Kirk's just having a mood swing like ol' Professor Trins."

Harry grumpily wrenched the curtains of his four-poster open, wishing horrible things on the Slytherins. He pulled on a few Muggle clothes, then over that the scarlet Gryffindor robes. With a large yawn, he stumbled from the dormitory to greet Fred, George, Angelina, and Ginny, all of whom were waiting in the common room. 

Harry offered them a drowsy smile.

"Looks like the weather's detesting us," said Fred, glancing to the rain-lashed window. "Not a majour problem; can be easily overlooked…."

"Yeah, sure," said Angelina sarcastically, a forced grin on her face. Fred simpered at her. "We've not prepared to play Quidditch in _that_ hell!"

"I know, the weather was just fine until today!" said George fiercely, giving Harry a sideways look. 

"Maybe the Slytherins learnt to control weather," he suggested, shrugging. Last thing he needed was a reminder of Voldemort on an already-stressful day. "Don't."

"Round up the other girls, Angie, would you?" said Fred distractedly. He pecked her lips as she stalked off. "Harry, want to go collect Kirk and your Firebolt?"

"So long as I don't get a kiss," teased Harry, ducking his head. "Be back."

He trounced off towards the boys' dorms, until he found the first years'. Kirk was already up and around, shoving clothes on, and Harry was pleased to see the smirk-ish grin on Kirk's face. 

"We're about to head off to the pitch," said Harry. "Ten minutes to our time to take the field."

"Thanks, Harry," said Kirk gratefully. 

"See you."

Harry bounded up another few sets of stairs, retrieved his Firebolt, and collapsed into Ginny's arms in the common room. Fred and George turned away, sniggering; Harry assumed Ginny had informed them all they needed to know. 

"Good luck," whispered Ginny into Harry's ear, sending shivers down his spine. She gave him a quick kiss, then hurried off towards the girls' dorms. 

"Well, congratulations, Harry," said Fred, cuffing Harry's shoulder with a satisfied grin. "You've got a Weasley girlfriend."

George wiped an invisible tear from his eye.

"You're officially our brother, Harry," he cried, embracing Harry. 

"Thanks, guys," said Harry solemnly. "And you've been wonderful captains, even if we lose."

"Aw, you're making us blush, Harry!" admonished Fred as both he and George glowed with happiness. 

"But we're not going to lose, are we, Harry?" 

"Nope, not if I can help it," said Harry firmly. 

"Good lad!" 

"Spiffing!" 

"I'm going on down to the pitch."

Fred and George calling merrily after him, Harry strided from the common room. 

"Do behave during the game, dear!" called the Fat Lady shrilly. "Need a Gryffindor win, you know!"

Harry didn't pause to eat breakfast; Nearly-Headless Nick cuffed his back as well, wishing him the best of luck. The rain spattered violently down on Harry upon exiting the castle; people were dispersing towards the pitch all around him, umbrellas raised. 

When at last he reached the locker room, he drew his wand and tapped his glasses. _"Impervius_."

Praying that the water-repellent charm would be enough, he flopped down on the bench in the locker room. 

He was growing a tad bored when a funny rustling noise caught his attention. Harry drew his wand and peered curiously down the corridor to Madam Hooch's office. 

Madam Hooch herself bristled out, looking ardent.

"Hello, Potter," she greeted, smiling warmly. "Best of luck in the match today."

"Thank you, Madam," said Harry, minding his manners. "What was that noise?"

"Had to have a last minute checkup on the balls," explained Madam Hooch, gesturing to a chest beneath her arm. "Well anyway, must get to the pitch to signal the start of the game shortly."

She walked off, Harry frowning slightly after her. He'd never remembered Madam Hooch bringing the balls out this late….

The rest of the team erupted into the doors, broad grins on their faces, Fred leading them.

"Harry," he said. "Good to see you, mate."

"You just saw me," Harry pointed out. 

"Well, good to see you again!"

"We have a strategy for today, team," said George, stepping in front of the others. "Harry — your glasses, are they —"  


"I've already performed the charm," finished Harry.

"Good, then." George drew a heavy sigh. "I'd like to say that no matter the outcome of this game, you have been one hell of a Quidditch team. The days were long and the nights were rough, but throughout it all, we've persevered. Just one tiny game left, against our arch-rivals in Slytherin; stomp them, and we'll do just fine. Kirk — you're not as important this game. Stop what you can, but our Chasers will take it away for the most part.

"Angie, Katie, Alicia…just go through the paces. Stooging is permitted this time, do anything to score; Hooch won't be able to see three feet in front of her if the storm keeps up…. And Harry. Wait until we're up fifty points at least before catching the Snitch, and we'll win the House Cup and the match."

"All together, now," said Fred. "Who's the best?" 

"GRYFFINDOR!" 

"Then let's show those gits from Slytherin that!" 

Bellowing wildly, Harry flanked the team out of the locker rooms and onto the pitch, where Slytherin stood in acid-green robes and dirty looks. 

"Shake hands!" yelled Madam Hooch. 

Looking highly pleasant, Fred and George wrapped a hand on each side of the Slytherin captain's. Draco Malfoy sneered at Harry. 

"On my whistle. Three…two…one."

The silvery whistle piped a note, and the teams soared off the ground in a myriad of scarlet, green, and rain. Harry flew straight for the sky, thunder clapping around him and lightning forking him. Malfoy, obviously thinking Harry had gone berserk, stayed closer down. 

Harry squinted through the heavy rain for any flecks of gold in the distance. He could see the battle raging below, and could make out shouts from the crowd when each team scored, but had no idea what the score was. 

A flicker of gold glitter caught his eye, but his heart sank; Malfoy had seen the gold already, and Harry stooped to the level of sidling after Malfoy and flying directly in front of him; they collided and Malfoy was nearly thrown from his broom, snarling at Harry, who smiled unpleasantly back.

The next couple of minutes past without any sign of the Snitch; Harry looped the pitch several times, still squinting, Malfoy directly behind him. 

A whistle trilled in the distance, and Harry swooped downward.

"I CALLED TIMEOUT!" yelled Fred. 

Harry dismounted and blundered towards the rest of the team, rain thrashing down on them. 

"One hundred and ten to sixty is the score, Harry," said George breathlessly. "You've got to get the Snitch soon, it's growing dangerous out here…."

Harry turned intently to Kirk.

"Don't let a goal in," he said. "You've got to keep them at bay while I search for the Snitch. I'll deal with Malfoy; keep the Bludgers off me and keep scoring if you can."

"Will do," said Alicia, echoed by Fred and Kirk moments later.

"I can hardly see four feet in front of me," said Harry despairingly, mounting his broom. "Best of luck."

The whistle sounded again, and the team took off once more. Harry began frantically searching for the Snitch, rain whipping and stinging his skin, lightning flaring brilliantly. Malfoy didn't dare go high as Harry was; the other players were blots of mottled scarlet and green below him. 

A glimmer of gold past the Gryffindor goal posts caught his attention, and he dived hard as he could towards them. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen, and Harry's heart leapt to his throat; he reached out his right arm; the Snitch drew closer, and then —

As Harry's fingers closed joyously around the struggling Golden Snitch, Kirk Joseph tapped the Snitch with his finger; a yank from behind his navel told Harry that winning wasn't necessarily the best thing.

The ground swooped around, and he was swirling in tight circles, Kirk alongside him. Momentarily the spinning was shattered by Harry's feet slamming into the ground again, Kirk crumpling next to him, panting. 

The Snitch fluttered off into the distance, and one thought echoed in the hollows of Harry's mind:

_We are screwed._

Kirk breathed heavily on the ground, dust flitting up. The rain had subsided in the place they were at; mountainous caverns swarmed all around them; the air was alight with sounds of the forest. Harry knew the feeling all too well that swept over his body, and he groped for his wand.

"GET OUT YOUR WAND!" Kirk bellowed suddenly. "RUN! Harry, YOU HAVE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE!"

Harry faltered, frowning at Kirk, whose face was splotched with tears.

"They're coming!" he shouted desperately. "Remove yourself from this land! You've got to get out of this area!"

Kirk's voice was showing signs of maturity Harry had never heard before. He glimpsed around; his broomstick had been left on the pitch, it seemed. Chances of getting back without the Snitch were zero to none, he knew, so he squinted up into the darkness.

A cold, mirthless laugh brought reality crashing hard down on Harry and Kirk. Kirk struggled to rise, Harry helping him, and the sinewy form of Lord Voldemort himself appeared, crimson eyes burning with hatred and hunger. 

"Brought another friend with you, Harry Potter?" asked Voldemort softly, his eyes roaming over Kirk's limp body. "You must enjoy the deaths of your friends…but nevertheless, I will exterminate your friend shortly."

Harry threw himself in front of a whimpering Kirk. 

"Let him alone," he said evenly. 

"Learnt to speak in a year's time, have you, Potter?" whispered Voldemort, nostrils dilating. "Excellent. It will make your death much more interesting."

Harry gritted his teeth.

"You know we can't duel properly, what will you do? Murder me without giving me a chance? How very prompt and adult of you."

He was vaguely amazed at the strength present in his own voice. Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I shall not have the honour of dueling with you this time, I'm afraid," he said, quiet voice full of sheer hatred. "I will duel with young, blundering Kirk Joseph. Severus," he directed sharply over his shoulder, and the swish of a cloak resounded; a man stepped forward. "You will duel with Potter here."

Professor Snape stared Harry in the eye with a steady, sure gaze. Harry looked back into the Potion Master's remorseful face, and a warmth swept him. He had to distract Voldemort in order for Kirk to escape. _But why is Kirk here to begin with?_

"You're wondering how Joseph here learnt of my plot," said Voldemort softly, eyes squarely focusing on Harry's. Pain shot through his forehead like he had never felt, nearly sending him toppling to the ground, but he focused on standing. "He is quite the bungler, I'm afraid. He accidentally blundered across my faithful servant at Hogwarts while she was setting the Snitch to be a Portkey. He might've known before then, actually; he suspected for quite some time."

"I knew you wouldn't suspect a Portkey in the Snitch, Harry Potter," said Voldemort lazily, eyes flickering to Kirk then back to Harry. "You were so wrapped up in winning the Quidditch House Cup that it would be terribly easy to manipulate you. I knew that Draco Malfoy was not a good Quidditch player; knew he would fail to capture the Snitch. But I had not expected Joseph to join you; I assume he had hoped to get here before you to save your life by giving his own…."

"Why?" choked out Harry. "Why does everyone want to save me?" He knew it was pointless asking this of Voldemort, but the words tumbled out before he could stop them. 

"Because, Harry, you are the only one I am mortal to," hissed Voldemort, tongue flitting rapidly. Harry sank to his knees, emotions overwhelming him. "I can never achieve immortality to the ancestor of Godric Gryffindor, and you happen to be his last, as I am Salazar Slytherin's last."

The news shook Harry with an almighty force. Everyone that had died — everyone that had saved him — because only he could defeat Voldemort? It seemed impossible when faced by that snake-like face of Voldemort, staring him down….

"Don't you see it, Potter?" whispered Voldemort. "You have elfin blood, you can touch anything created by the elves. But I have your blood in me; I can as well. Unfortunately, this will not able me to make myself immortal to you. I can murder you, of course…."

_But how? _wondered Harry through the waves of mixed emotions. _How can I be Gryffindor's ancestor?_

"In your second year, you remember, the sword you extracted from the Sorting Hat at Hogwarts," said Voldemort, voice softer still. "Only Gryffindor's ancestor could touch the handle."

It was absurd, unbelievable, and yet….

"Why should I trust you?" spat Harry resentfully. He cast a glance at Snape, who gave a barely visible nod to confirm that it was true. Harry rose spitefully to his feet, wand drawn. "I can duel with you without my wand."

Voldemort's eyes alit with malice, nostrils dilating excitedly. The thin mouth let the tongue flit out again.

"You have learnt of Godric's one power, then," he said quietly. "Such a pitiful fool he was, practicing his magic with no wand, destined to one day die…. Just as yourself, Harry…. Your father was very talented in that field as well…. I suffice to say he destroyed many of my faithful servants…."

"NO!" shouted Harry. 

"Yes, boy, he murdered just as you have," hissed Voldemort menacingly. "Just as I have."

"NOT OUT OF COLD BLOOD!" bellowed Kirk Joseph suddenly, and Harry started; he had forgotten that Kirk was even there in his haste. Kirk was trembling from head to foot with suppressed rage, and his voice shook. "I've not lived in England long, but I've made out of you what Dumbledore's said of you. You didn't murder people for any reason, you just liked killing —"

"My initial target was James Potter's great-great-grandfather," interjected Voldemort with a tone of dislike. "He was in my time; I knew if I got rid of Potter that my mission to achieve immortality could actually occur; but he, like so many others, had a child before I could destroy him. I had to leave and be dormant for some time because of that fool's son; I underwent many transformations, and was forced tragically to murder people in between —"

"LIAR!" shouted Harry, still standing defensively before Kirk. 

Voldemort let his gaze settle on Harry, hunger burning in those crimson eyes. A stabbing pain shot through Harry's scar again. 

Voldemort chuckled.

"You remind me so much of your father that it is uncanny," he said. "We are quite alike, you realise…. Both half-bloods, with fathers that put us to shame —"

"MY FATHER DID NOT PUT ME TO SHAME!" 

"Only whereas I had the pleasure of murdering my father, I murdered yours as well. I daresay he was so powerful that he didn't die until I was torn from my body; after your pathetic Mudblood mother died."

"The Urdai should be granted their murdering abilities, however," said Voldemort suddenly, snapping his fingers. Three Urdais appeared next to him, a Reaper flanking them. Voldemort smiled a cruel smile. "Tear them apart."

The nearest Urdai screamed, advancing on Harry and Kirk. Harry backed Kirk up, raising his wand. _"Impedimenta!"_ he shouted; the Urdai froze in place. _"STUPEFY!"_

Another of the Urdais was blown backwards. Only one remained. 

Harry was struck with sudden brilliance. The only thing, he realised, preserving the Urdais' life was most likely an enchantment Voldemort had placed. Therefore, to wipe out the Urdai —

_"Finite Incantatem."_

The words were mere whispers in the darkness, but had their desired effect. The Urdais crumpled into heaps of ash on the ground, and an amount of colour drained from Voldemort's pallid face. The snake-face then grew livid with fury.

"Very well; you have destroyed my comrades. The Reaper, however, is not bound to me by spell; there is no destroying it."

And the midnight-black form of the Reaper sprang into view. Harry felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck as the Reaper's gaze focused on him, irrepressible hunger burning in the red pinpricks of eyes. Harry backed away a bit more, Kirk being pushed back with him. 

_"INFERNOBOLUS!" _he bellowed. A ribbon of fire engulfed the Reaper, but the demon sprang back, scythe glinting in the moonlight (_A lot of time has passed_, registered Harry's mind). 

Harry sent the fire towards the Reaper again, but it darted away once more. The gap between them was closing steadily, and Harry grew frantic with the fire. Those red eyes were telling him one thing: Death. The Reaper broke into a sprint, rushing towards Harry and Kirk. 

It happened before Harry could prevent it; Kirk flung an arm around Harry's waist and tossed him aside with a renowned strength; the Reaper stretched out a skeleton-like arm; and Kirk was being thrown onto the ground, his body twisted and gnarled. Kirk was barely breathing. 

Voldemort laughed.

"Your friend is dead."

Harry dropped his wand with a clatter, for the first time in his life aiming a curse to kill another human.

_"DUCO CANTO!"_ was the incantation that sprang from Harry's mouth; it seemed to catch Voldemort by surprise. Snape vanished with a _pop!_ and Voldemort drew himself, hands over his ears as Harry's were.

A horrible wailing burst through Harry's fingers, erupting pain within him; pain worse than the Cruciatus Curse even. Voldemort's face contorted with fury, and he Disapparated with a _pop!_ as Snape had. The Reaper was engulfed by the screeching noise, and burst into flames; Harry fell to his knees as the Song Charm carried on, and signs of life were shredded from nearby. Death Eaters were stalking forward, struggling to get to Harry, and they were ripped apart viciously, until they abandoned it and disappeared as well. 

After what seemed like ages, the Murderous Song Charm faded away and nothing moved.

Harry looked down, and the pit of his stomach seemed to fall out.

The body of Kirk Joseph, gnarled and mangled, was lying on the ground limply. No breathing was coming from the boy now. Harry fell to his knees helplessly as mirthless laughter rang out across the flat.

Harry broke down and wept onto the lifeless form of the Keeper. 


End file.
